


Are You My AU?

by Adorible



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fellswap (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underlust (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underpatch (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Axe is not named Axe cause we dont do dat here, Black wears ten inch heels change my mind, Blue lowkey too smart for his own good, Chara kinda sucks, Crooks is also not crooks, Depression, Drinking, Drug Use, Edge can and will kill you, Flowey really sucks, Fluff, G is a trick ass bitch, Gaster is stressed, Green just wants to read his books man, Harem, I deadass dont know what im doing, I wish toriel was my mom, Muffet is hot im sorry, Multi, Multiverse, Mutt needs a fuckin hug, Nonbinary Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Polyamory, Possible smut, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Remembers Resets (Undertale), Reader regrets everything, Reader swears like a sailor, Reader-Insert, Red has so many issues but he's trying his best, Reset PTSD, Reverse Harem, Sans is a bastard as per usual, Selectively Mute Frisk (Undertale), Sin and Lust drink respect virgins juice, Songfic, Sort Of, Stretch needs to back off, Swearing, This Does Not End Well, Update tags as I go, a mix of gold and red though, but they also really wanna smash, forgot to mention, gaster is dadster, he is Jupiter, hence the major death warning, his name is Mars, imagine remembering your own death lmao, incomplete world, is this enough tags, like so much swearing, more like readers gender is up to you?, more like these bitches think they can serenade reader, nonbinary reader, papyrus is a sweetheart, reader cant SAVE and LOAD but they do something similar, reader gets vibe checked, reader hides things from the boys, reader is a sneaky little shit, reader is here to kick ass and chew gum and they're all out of gum, reader needs a nap, reader sings too, slight muffet action cause come on, sort of once again, the Judge bois have mega PTSD, the world resets though so its fine, world deletion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adorible/pseuds/Adorible
Summary: You write fanfiction.That's literally it. There's not much else to you. Besides being just another forum username amongst a sea of other users.You're decently popular, sure, and you love creating fantastical stories for people to read. The fandoms you currently inhabit give you that little spark of joy you need to keep pushing forward, but, once again, besides that small online presence, you have nothing, youAREnothing.So what the fuck are you supposed to do when you wake up in an all too familiar place, with all too familiar faces staring back at you, saying all too familiar things?Fuck shit up and go off script obviously.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr & Toriel, Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 189
Kudos: 614





	1. What Goes Bump In The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh hi there! This is baby's first fic so enjoy? No skeleboys for the first chapter, just good ol Readz being a smartass!

You know, in hindsight you should have known some fuckshit was up.

Nothing is ever as peaceful as it was now. Your roommates had gone out for the night, something about celebrating midterm exams being over by getting absolutely shitfaced somewhere nearby. They had invited you too, of course, but well... you never really had been one for drinking excessively, had you? A little 'something something' (preferably wine, thank you very much) occasionally as a wind down from stressful classes was alright, but you weren't fond of the stronger stuff, or beer, blegh, shit outright tasted like watered down piss sometimes.

What were you talking about before...?

Oh, right! The bullshitery you should have seen coming from a mile away. 

You had the apartment to yourself, a rare treat really, seeing as your dear roomies were homebodies just like you, they must have been **really** fucked up over their exams to want to _leave_ and get drunk. Hours upon hours of studying from dusk to dawn in your room can really ruin your opinion of your own house it seems. That is if you didn't plan out your room well enough like your roommates did, they all mixed their relaxation area with their work area, studying and doing assignments on their bed when it should only be associated with sleeping and relaxation, the damn fools. Fortunately, you had invested in a large wooden desk and padded office chair, both of which were pushed against the furthest wall from your door, right under a two-panel window with cream-colored drapes, it made for the best place to get natural light obviously, not that you needed it often, only if you were drafting in your physical notebook rather than typing it out on a document on your desktop.

You were an English literature major, after all, you kind of needed to treat writing as a job if you ever hoped to one day live off of your writings. Starving authors were a thing too damnit! 

Finally done with your inner musings, you come back to reality. You were sat at your writing desk, the soft clacking of the keyboard sounding out in the near silence, the only other sounds being your small fan on the desk letting a small breeze pass you by as it rotated, and the muffled music coming from the headphones perched around your shoulders. Music always helped you when it came to writing, though certain music was better for certain themes, you can't exactly listen to some upbeat pop song and write about mass arson and gore now, could you? 

Pushing your office chair away from your desk, you stretched, raising your arms above your head, listening to the telltale pops and cracks of your spine that spoke volumes about your shitty posture and just how long you had been sitting there writing about skeletal shenanigans, before slumping back down in your chair. That's right bitch, you wrote Undertale fanfiction. Undertale had always held a special place in your heart, from the characters (bless you Burgerpants, you relatable bastard), to the stories message, down to the damned pixel art style. That shit hit home, and it hit home **hard**. You had never found a better subject to hyperfocus on, and oh _lord_ help anyone who got you started on the au's. 

Before you could even think of going down that absolute clusterfuck of a rabbit hole, your phone's alarm sounded out, startling a soft curse past your lips. 

"Shit... bedtime already?" You sighed softly as you dismissed the alarm, reaching up and removing the headphones from your neck, placing them gently on the desk next to your mouse before pausing your music. You glanced at how much you had written... eh, it was enough for another chapter you guessed. The readers wouldn't complain, that you knew for sure, it was a reverse harem story, something that had been gaining a bit of popularity lately and definitely skyrocketed your statistics in a matter of days. People sure as hell loved being doted on by a gaggle of skeleboys. 

You snickered softly as your eyes roamed over the words in the document. Well... doted on until _now_. How could you resist throwing some angst in there just as everything seemed to be going all sunshine and rainbows for the reader-insert? You'd be a fool to make a purely happy fic, and the reactions from the readers were always too damn funny. For how much you hurt fictional characters, you could only imagine what your STATS would look like if they applied to real life.

** Y/N **

**LV: 99**  
**EXP: 9999**  
**HEALTH: 9000**

**_*They revel in the suffering of others_ **

Yeah... probably some shit like that. 

Focusing back onto the task at hand, you quickly scoured the work for any grammatical errors, finding minimal screwups, you fixed them before posting it with a short and sarcastic note about how well things are going for the dear reader-insert. Hell, even a blind person could see the shit-eating grin you wore through your words. When the chapter finally uploaded, you set your monitor to sleep, leaving the tab open though, it was always nice refreshing it when you woke up, seeing the zero views jump up to whatever it happened to be. 

You stood from your chair and pushed it in, stretching once more to get any lingering kinks and knots out of your poor hunched back, taking the time to let your gaze float around your bedroom. The apartment you lived in was a three-bedroom, two-bathroom, with a small living room and an even smaller kitchen, but at least there was a balcony attached to the living room that overlooked the forest on the backside of the apartment complex. Not much of a sight, but it was better than a balcony looking at the ugly ass parking lot that held so many rust-bucket cars it was a tetanus hazard, your car included. 

Back on track... oh right. Your room, and roommates. You had three of them, two were dating, so the lovebirds shared a room, that left the other to take the other available room. It's not that you _weren't_ close to them, you all got along fine and dandy, you just... didn't have the time for friends. You were in your last year of college, while they were only two (or... was it three?) years in, they could still fuck around, but you needed to buckle down and get shit done and get it done _well_. After graduation, you could party to your heart's content. If you had to sacrifice a few short-lived friendships to get your masters and still have a somewhat intact will to live, then so be it.

You honestly didn't need physical friendships at the moment anyway. The online ones you had formed were enough for your antisocial ass for now, and they were interested in the things you were, so they already had better chances of sticking longterm than the physical ones.

You shuffled over to your dresser, opening the drawers and pulling out random articles of clothing, some pajama pants, a ratty old shirt with questionable stains on it, and undergarments. You tossed those on the bed, carefully avoiding the mountain of stuffed animals and plushies near your pillow, hitting them with clothes would just be downright disrespectful. Plus... you paid a hell of a lot of money for some of those custom plushes. Your small army of Undertale characters perched on your bed was worth it and then some though. 

Passing the bed, you dug around a small hamper near your door, retrieving a large towel, you would have kept them in the bathroom, but for lack of better explanation, you cant have shit in this apartment unless you keep it in your room. You've seen the way one of your roommates (you could never pin down _who_ exactly) treats towels, leaving them damp on the floor till they... ugh ... get all stiff and reek of mildew. It was gross as hell, and only got picked up when one of you complained about it. 

Gathering your clothes and towel in your arms, you made your way out of your room and across the hall to the bathroom closest to your room, not bothering to shut the door, your roommates wouldn't be back for a few hours, and if they came home early, well, it isn't your fault if they get an eyeful, they said they'd be coming home late. 

Showering was as exciting as it gets, the usual self-loathing and fake arguments where you roast the shit out of the other person and then they die of literal embarrassment while the audience applauds you for your kick-ass comebacks in scalding hot water that leaves your skin bright red with irritation, aka the only correct way to shower. You stepped out, immediately wrapping the towel around yourself, sparing a quick peek at the steam fogged mirror, yup, that's you alright, in all your drowned rat looking glory. Your lips quirked up into a soft smile, that reminded you of a favorite quote from Undertale, one that had you sniffling like a little baby bitch every time. 

**_*Despite everything, it's still you._ **

And oh buddy was that especially true for you. Despite all the absolute buffoonery you suffered through, nothing could change you. You'd always be a piece of sh-

**CLANK**

The... fuck? 

"What the fuck?" Ah yes, thank you mouth for forming the words in your mind, very helpful when that definitely could have been an intruder and you just gave away that you not only heard them but also where you were, very nice. Welp, you aren't dying butt naked, that's for fucking sure. Quickly dressing and brushing your hair so it sat where it would dry and not fall into your eyes, you peeked out of the bathroom, looking this way and that. Nothing... not a damn sound. How comforting. 

You slipped out of the bathroom with stealth that can only be described as 'high dude tiptoeing to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal, thinking its assfuck o'clock at night, but really its only 4pm and he's wearing sunglasses that make it look dark in the house.' So, like a total moron. After making your rounds through the house, checking every room for an unknown threat and coming up empty-handed, you finally relaxed and went back to your room, tossing your used towel and dirty clothes into another hamper, you were all of two seconds away from nose-diving into bed when something sparkled on the floor, halfway under your dresser. 

It was... the heart locket from that collector's edition of Undertale you had ordered as soon as it released. Huh... 

"Wasn't this on the display stand...?" You glanced at the dresser top and sure enough, the stand had been tipped over. No, wait, one of the legs had snapped, well no fucking wonder it was on the ground, what did you think, that it jumped to its death? You gingerly picked up the locket, turning it over and opening the clasp, inspecting it inside and out. Just a small scuff thank fuck, the music box was perfectly intact. You were not going to buy the game again just because the locket broke... alright who are you kidding, yes you would. 

Exhaustion finally caught you by the throat and throttled you, and your bed, ever the temptress, was beckoning. You gave the locket one last glance over and shut it securely, setting it beside the broken stand, you'd have to either fix it or order another. But that was an issue for Future You, the Now You was flipping responsibility the bird as you finally crawled into bed after flicking the light off, burying under the covers and drifting to sleep, though, you swore you could hear the faint chime of a music box as you gave up your last shred of consciousness...

Yeah, you definitely should have known some fuckshit was up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said this is my first fic so any comments about what I can improve is very highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!


	2. Wait A Damn Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Readz can't seem to catch a break man. Somebody give them a hug, or you know, glare at them, that works too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some skeleboys join the battle! And can I just say thank you guys so MUCH for the support on the first chapter! It was so amazing reading the positive messages and I'm glad Readz is relatable and that the crackhead vibes are strong for this fic!

This was hell, surely, it couldn't be anything else.

You wanted (and practically expected) to wake up sometime in the afternoon to peace and quiet as your roommates all nursed their hangovers and avoided each other like the plague. But, you know, when the actual fuck do you ever get what you want? Apparently never, and it wasn't changing now. 

You weren't sure how long you had slept, but it clearly hadn't been too long by how shitty you felt. Everything ached, every muscle in your body was screaming like the damned in purgatory, you could feel your pulse throb harshly in your fingertips, behind your eyes, and even in your heart. Jesus **fuck** did your heart hurt. It felt like someone had ripped open your chest, shoved a damn speaker into your life-giving muscle, and pressed play on a bass boosted rap song that was cranked up to 400% volume. You were nearly vibrating with pain, every sense overridden to the maximum. 

The silence was **_too loud_** , ears ringing a high pitched wail that drowned every other noise out. It was **_too bright_** , your eyes burned with the harsh light, even though you were fucking positive your eyes were closed, the blinding blaze seemed to slip right past your eyelids and figuratively flash you with the intensity of the suns ass crack. You smelled **_too much_** , each labored inhale through your nose sent wave after crashing wave of nausea, it smelt like burning rubber, gasoline, and... was that fucking **ketchup?** Alright, which one of your can't-cook-headass roommates was burning breakfast, they were so getting their ass beat when you could convince your body you _weren't_ dying. 

You felt **_too many things_** , besides the constant flaring pain that wracked your body each millisecond you existed, you could tell you weren't on your bed anymore, though you could still feel your blanket wrapped tightly around you, albeit a little stiffer than you remember (eugh, guess its laundry day then...), the ground below you was cold as balls and hard, even through the protection of the cloth swaddling your body, it nearly felt like tile. You could only chalk it up to your stupid ass tossing and turning too much and effectively yeeting yourself out of bed and onto the floor in your sleep. It's happened before, much to your embarrassment.

Question is, why the fuck did falling out of bed give you such an overwhelming sensory overload? You didn't drink last night, you were _sure_ of that. So it wasn't a hangover... a migraine maybe? You did cut it pretty close with your screen time for the day, being hunched over in your chair with your face inches from the bright display always left you a little irritable, but nothing as god awful as _this_. 

Your senses finally began to stop their onslaught on you, allowing you some brief clarity, which was great because you really needed to-

_tink_

...Which was great because you really need-

**tink**

...Which w-

**_tink_ **

WHICH WAS GREAT BECAUSE YOU REALLY NEEDED TO-

**_TINK_ **

OH FOR FUCKS SAKE CANT YOU INNER MONOLOGUE FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS?!

Your roommates are really testing your patience today, aren't they? They were supposed to be miserable and hungover, not making whatever fucking noise _that_ was! And the smell was just getting worse by the second, good lord! Now it just smelled like a barbeque gone horribly wrong! God damn you could _almost_ smell the faint tang of condiments through the sharp bite of burnt rubber and smoke.

Dealing with the clowns you called roomies attempting and failing an inside grilling session was not in your plans for the day. You hadn't even opened your eyes yet and somehow, just somehow, the bullshitery increased tenfold. 

"damnit, 'nilla, ya fuckin' said ya turned the damn machine off!"

Oh, fuck no.

They were _not_ arguing this early. You didn't know what was worse, the fact that they were getting closer to your bedroom, or that suddenly, one of your roommates adopted a New Yorkers accent and became a chain smoker all in one night. The gruffness of the voice grated on your ears, causing you to flinch and try to drown yourself in your still very oddly stiff and not-at-all-as-comfy-and-soft-as-you-remember-it-being blanket. You couldn't, no, _wouldn't_ deal with them right now. Just fucking stay quiet and they'll eventually take the argument-

"c'mon red, he already said he _did_ shut it down, s'just an extra power surge 'cause o' the storm las' night, musta' given it a jump start 'r somethin'..."

-right into your bedroom apparently. Okay. Fine. This is fine. Do you know what else is fine? That _this_ roommate has also decided an accent was in order, a soft drawl that damn near sounded southern, and also vaguely like they were so high an airplane would be jealous. The wack-ass city slicker meets cowboy roleplay they were doing wasn't the issue. No. The issue was the Woke Smoke™ they seemed to partake in before coming into your bedroom. You all had a strict rule of no drugs in the house courtesy of yours truly. You weren't going to have it escalate into a meth lab under the bathroom sink. **Not again.**

Before you could even voice your displeasure with the rule-breaker, two sets of footsteps approached your covered sad little lumpy form on the ground, seemingly stepping over you to get to where they needed to go. Rude. It's like they were completely oblivious to you being there! The sound of fabric shifting and metal clinking against... something... hung in the air to replace the sudden silence. Wait, they better not be going through your shit! The fuckers! 

"mmm... looks like it just turned on for a couple'a minutes an' then shut down again, least thas what th' status report says. classic was worried fer no reason. s'fine." High As A Kite spoke up over the metallic chiming. 

"ya think th' bastard will be satisfied wit' that? tch, get real, mutt, he's gonna make us run a whole shit load o' diagnostics 'n then get the ashtray ta supervise." ChainsmokersRUs™ growled out, a much louder clang of metal against whatever-the-fuck ricocheted off the walls. Logic pointed at sir smokes-a-100-packs-a-day hitting something. Damn, anger issues much?

Wait a damn minute.

Last time you checked none of your roommates were named fucking _Mutt_ of all things. Wait. Fuck. The roleplay, the accents, the nicknames. Oh god above was this a kink thing? This was totally a kink thing wasn't it. The lovebirds were doing erotic roleplay in your room oh **fuck** no. It's time for kink-shaming to be your kink.

"s'not _that_ bad, red, ya just push all 'is buttons cause yer literally-"

 **"Can you two shut the fuck up."** You snarled, ripping off the blanket atop you to stare down the two kinksters in your room and-

...

You suddenly knew what was clanging against the metal.

Bone.

It was fucking _b o n e_.

_Silence._

...

You fucked up.

Oh you **_really_** fucked up. 

Clearly, you were the one who broke the no drugs rule, because it took an actual crackhead to hallucinate the shit in front of you. You tried to remember when you had gotten addicted to smoking crack, and why the fuck your roommates never tried to stop you before you nose-dived right into the deep end of insanity. Now, stood in front of you, staring you down like you were Public Enemy #1, were two skeletons. But _oh_ buddy these weren't your run of the mill spooky scary bone rattlers. That would have been too easy. No, your brain hated you, because these were two certified Hot Topic employee versions of Sans and Papyrus motherfucking Undertale. 

Fellswap Papyrus and Underfell Sans. Mutt and Red. 

Briefly, your eyes darted around the room, head finally unlodging itself from your own ass, you took in your surroundings. This was definitely not your bedroom, and you were not wrapped up in your blanket as you previously thought. You were sat on the floor of what looked to be a disaster zone of a lab. The tiled floor was scuffed and grimy, you could hardly make out what color it was _supposed _to be, but you eventually pinned it down as eggshell blue. The walls were covered in corkboards with faded and yellowing papers pinned to them, crinkled blueprints took up space where the boards didn't occupy, and multiple bookshelves stuffed with the spines of too many to count books took up the only available space pressed against the wall. But from what you could see, it was just unpainted drywall.__

__The remaining decor in the room wasn't as easily identifiable, besides the few desks pushed together and what you _thought_ was a fully decked out desktop computer, the other shit just wasn't registering as actual objects. Half-finished mechanical inventions, tools are strewn about that were not found in your average dad's toolbox. ... You were pretty sure that was a regular-ass plasma globe sitting on one of the desks- nevermind, it was making intricate imagery and line patterns._ _

__But what took the whole cake and promptly threw that bitch out the window, was the floor to ceiling machine that sat smack dab in the middle of the room, towering over you, the two skeletons who were _still_ staring at you, and everything else in the room. And if that wasn't intimidating enough, then the many-colored lights flickering along its surface, and the strings of code flying across a screen embedded into its side was the perfect little fuckshit cherry on the this-shit-is-wack sundae. _ _

__Satisfied with your thoughts on what was surely going to be your final resting place (based off of how harshly Mutt and Red were glaring at you), you focused back on said skeletons. Shockingly enough, they weren't in their canon outfits. Instead, Red was wearing a solid light grey turtleneck sweater, paired with distressed black jeans and sloppily tied cherry-red tennis shoes. Though he still radiated the famous stupid-bitch energy, his sharp-toothed grin was strained painfully taut, single golden fang glinting under the harsh LEDs on the ceiling, you could just barely make out the crack that ran from the faux tooth to his eye socket. Bright red eye-lights shrunk down to pinpricks as his hard gaze bore down on you. The same red as his eye-lights lined the underside of his eye sockets, and you wondered if maybe it was the skeletons equivalent of eyebags or if he was just born with those._ _

__His bone structure was much thicker than a regular humans would be. Though most of his body was covered, his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, so you could see how his radius and ulna melded together nearly seamlessly, and his metacarpal bones and phalanges only had the faintest tint of red between the joints (man you were glad you poured over anatomy charts so you knew the names of all the bones and not look like a complete dumbass), you supposed it was magic to make bending and manipulating the bone easier. Red tinted sweat beaded along his skull. Good to know some of his nasty trash gremlin headcanons were true._ _

__Mutt, being a Papyrus type, was obviously a whole hell of a lot lankier than Red. You could only ballpark his height at a whopping 7 feet 4 inches, which put Red and other Sans types at about 6 feet even (good fucking GOD why were they so tall?!). The literal beanpole of a skeleton donned a maroon long-sleeved shirt and similar to Red, dark grey jeans that were completely shredded at the knees and... were those fucking blood orange crocs? Seriously? Where the fuck do you even buy crocs anymore??_ _

__Questionable fashion choices aside, Mutt's expression was equally as strained as Red's, nasal bone scrunched up and teeth quirked into a menacing sneer. Where Red had one golden fang, both of Mutt's canines had been replaced, and it was even harder to see the fissures crawling upwards to his lidded eye sockets. His eye-lights were the color of burnt honey, sharp and small as he focused on you in what you could only describe as **predatory attention**. _ _

__Just how long you three had a staring contest was beyond you, but you did know who decided to speak up first. It was you, you total fucking idiot, the absolute intelligence in your next words would make Shakespeare roll in his grave._ _

__"Uhhhhh...." Genius, really._ _

__You discarded your previous statement of this just being a bad drug trip. You definitely died and got a first-class ticket to purgatory for your sins._ _

__This? This was **hell**._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I really appreciate any advice and tips for improving my writing! Comments in general really motivate me to work on this!


	3. Well This Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Readz has a not-so-great time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more skeleboys!! I very much apologize if any of them are ooc, I'm trying my hardest to keep them as canon as I can but I drink insane amounts of stupid bitch juice so I'll probably get some stuff wrong!

_Previously on Y/n being the biggest dumbass motherfucker._

_"Uhhhhh...." Genius, really._

The two skeletons just... stared. God, this took spot # 1 on your 'most awkward shit to happen' list. The previous top time being when you were in a bathroom stall, and someone knocked, and you (being the eloquent bastard you were), said 'come in'. That really paled in comparison to now. 

Mutt was the first to recover from the awkward tension in the air.

"s'a human." 

You take it back. You didn't deserve the title of biggest dumbass motherfucker. Mutt did. 

"s'a human- o' fuckin' course it's a human, ya jackass!" Red snapped, skull turning sharply to bare his fangs at Mutt. Seems you weren't the only one crowning the lanky skeleton king of the numbskulls. "fuckin' christ, th' machine pulled 'nother one through huh... stupid thing can't be turned on fer more than o' second without it bringin' in more trouble than s'worth."

... What? 

'Another one'? Was another human dragged into this universe? 

As if Mutt read your mind (which was honestly a little concerning because if he could, he wasn't reacting to the names you had been calling him), he answered your question. 

"s'a _human_ this time though... never spit outta human before, ya think they're a timeline's frisk 'r chara?" Mutt's eye-lights roamed over you as he spoke, pausing on your chest briefly, seemingly looking for something, and when he didn't find it, his mouth... er... teeth (?) curved downwards into a frown. 

"nah, fuckin' hunk o' metal didn't drag our shitty brats here wit' us. why start haulin' em in now?" Red didn't analyze you as closely as Mutt did, thankfully, but his eye-lights still landed on your chest, and much to your horror, his permagrin quirked into a smirk. The rat bastard was snickering at you! What fucking for?! You hadn't even said jack shit yet!

"mus' be a dumb universe where th' species r'swapped, a humanized one o' us, look at their shirt." His tone was full of mirth, smile reaching shit-eating levels faster than the speed of light. 

Okay, first of all, Overtale was a fucking good au and little goat Frisk was a **godsend**! You looked down at your own attire, what the fuck about it would make him say-

Oh.

Oh **god** no.

You've realized the error of your ways.

You didn't even think twice when you had pulled it out of your dresser the previous night! You've had this fucking shirt forever! So sue you for thinking it was kinda funny! This shit always bit you in the ass! 

Your shirt, in all its ratty glory, had a little skele-dude taking a nice nap in a coffin, with the words 'Bone Tired' smacked right dab in the center of the article of clothing. It just had to be a skeleton pun, didn't it? Thanks, plot. 

After internally thoroughly cursing every god you could think of for this slander, you turned your attention back to the skeletons who had gone strangely silent. A chill ran through your entire body at the sight that greeted you. Empty eye sockets, manic grins full of sharp teeth, stiff but offensive posture, ready and _waiting_ for the chance to pounce and show you a **bad time** .

"say, human..." Mutt rasped out, taking a menacing step forward. 

Red did much the same, flexing his clawed phalanges at his sides, head cocked in mock questioning as he finished Mutt's sentence.

**"what'cha know 'bout alternate universes?"**

Haha. You're in danger.

**_*You felt your sins crawling on your back..._ **

Said sins jumped off and noped right the fuck out of there, and you had half the mind to follow after them, that is if your escape route wasn't currently behind the monsters boxing you in and interrogating you.

Thankfully, you didn't have to recite your last will and testament mentally for too long, a pair of heavy footsteps echoed out behind the double steel doors, where you assumed Red and Mutt had come from. The aforementioned skeletons cursed softly under their breaths as the heavy creak of the sturdy door sounded, and it opened almost comically slow, your savior poking their head into the room. 

Bless the motherfucking gods above! It was Stretch! You felt like he was your best bet at getting out of this, if it had been the original Sans (and if fanfics had taught you anything), he'd probably join the two Fell's in their harassment, being the anti-human bastard he was, hell, even you wrote him as a little distrusting shit in your own works.

"you two are taking an awfully long time just for a status report, what's the hold...up..." Stretch let his sentence trail off, pausing mid-stride into the room, doing a double-take as he finally recognized what was happening, expression wide in shock before you blinked and-just as fast as it had come-it was gone, replaced with a look akin to relaxed. 

But... underneath that calm facade, you could tell, he was exhausted if the shadows under his sockets and tight smile was anything to go by. Poor skele-man was probably put on babysitter duty by Sans. Rough. 

Stretch was probably the one dressed closest to his canon self. He still donned that traffic cone orange hoodie, but in place of his usual cargo shorts, he wore the plainest looking pair of blue jeans you had ever seen, and some scuffed up orange high top converse. A sucker was situated between his teeth, though you couldn't see its color in the void that was his mouth and therefore couldn't tell its flavor. You wondered, was he trying to break his smoking habit, or was he just not allowed to smoke inside?

You know... now that you thought about it, these skeleboys dressed pretty fucking similar to how you wrote them to dress when the barrier broke for their respective universes. Wack.

Seems like you were a pretty lucky guesser. 

Stretch's defeated sounding sigh broke you from your thoughts before you delved too deep.

"i'll go get classic." He mumbled around his sucker, shifting it from one side of his mouth to the other.

... Wait.

WAIT DON'T LEAVE YOU ALONE WITH THEM AGAIN-

"A...Ah...um..." Oh, Jesus fuck was that you stumbling like a little piss-baby? Talk, damnit! Get! Words! Out! Of! Mouth!

He must have seen your clear discomfort with the situation written all over your face, because he sighed once more and jerked his head in the direction of the double doors, making eye contact with Red. 

"mind fetching classic for me, red? i wanna have a little chat with the human." Stretch spoke softly, which you found sort of odd, for someone who smoked frequently according to his wiki, he didn't have the same gravelly tone Red and Mutt did. But then again, skeletons, especially magical ones, didn't fucking have lungs so the cancer stick clearly didn't have those harmful effects. The Fell's probably just did it for intimidation factor, something you loathed to admit had worked on you. 

Red scoffed at the request, rolling his eye-lights, the sassy fuck. "why th'fuck do i gotta get 'im? i ain't a messenger boy."

Stretch's smile became a bit more genuine, with a hint of smug, seemingly expecting the stubbornness. "and let him come down on his own, find us all here with the human, letting him assume we were keeping a secret from him?"

Well, fuck, when he put it like that. Keeping a secret from Sans? Insta-death. A whole gaster blaster to the face, point-blank. You winced at the thought, remembering the genocide runs you had done, how many hours it had taken you to beat Sans. How angry you had gotten when you failed over and over... only to reset and kill just Papyrus out of spite, before going back to being a pacifist the rest of the game. That... wasn't your finest moment.

Red had grumbled something about Stretch being a 'manipulative fuckin' ashtray' before stalking off through the doors, leaving you with Stretch and Mutt, the latter was leaning on one of the desks, still watching you intently, though his posture was relaxed, you knew not the trust that shit for a second, one wrong move and he'd be on your ass faster than flies on honey, like fire on kindling, like your ex on your best friend- _you get the point._

You hadn't even noticed Stretch making his way over to you until he was right next to you, but to your credit, you didn't startle easily, tilting your head up to look at him (fucking skyscraper of a dude he was).

"ya doing okay? this all must be pretty uh... overwhelming, nyeh heh."

Oh be **still** , your beating heart! He was worried about you! You had to refrain from simultaneously laughing and cooing at him. He would take that worry back lightening fast if he knew what you knew. Instead, you settled in for the long game. 

"I'm uh... I'm doing alright, just uh... coming to terms with... all of this?" Shit, was that convincing enough? You really were trying to rationalize all that had happened so far, but at the same time, you were trying to think of what the fuck you could and couldn't say. 

Stretch looked at you quizzically, tilting his head to the side. "never seen a monster before?"

Somewhere in that peanut-sized brain of yours, you solidified the brilliant idea that maybe, just _maybe_ , you shouldn't tell them you were from a world where they were all just fictional characters and you knew mostly everything about them, as well as made your own headcanons that seemed to be correct. Would they believe if your world didn't have monsters, or maybe... the barrier hadn't been broken yet so you didn't _know_ monsters existed. Only one way to find out.

"No, I... I've never seen a monster, not like this at least. They've all just been, uh no offense, but uh... fictional? Books and movies and uh... video games..." Fuck, well okay, guess a half-truth it was. You rubbed your arm nervously, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You hoped your anxious energy was coming off as them being your first monster encounter, and not because you knew how _deadly_ these specific boys could be. You knew monster souls were made of Hope, Love, and Compassion. A normal monster wouldn't attack unless provoked, and maybe not even then. But these skeletons were the Judge, Jury, and Executioner of their worlds, you had to play your cards right unless you wanted several magical bones up the ass. ... Get your head out of the fucking gutter. 

The hoodie-clad skeleton nodded in understanding, giving you a hum as his response and thankfully not questioning you further. You could lie to somebody no problem, but when these guys were literal walking lie detectors? Not a fat chance you were risking that shit, you wanted to live... sometimes.

Before your thoughts could take the Depression Express, the steel doors opened again, Red sauntering in like he fucking owned the place, and a familiar blue hoodied skeleton following, looking just a _teeny tiny_ bit angry. That was... not good. 

The original Sans, beloved fandom favorite, pun-master supreme. He, mentioned before, was wearing that signature blue hoodie, unzipped and slipping from his shoulders slightly, a baggy black t-shirt underneath. Gone were the black basketball shorts with white stripes, he was now wearing grey sweatpants and... he wasn't even wearing any shoes or socks. Just bare skeletal feet in all their glory. The fandom would have a field day with that one, for sure. He barely looked awake and- oh... maybe that's why he was pissed. Red woke him up from a nap, damnit. No brownie points for you, you were the reason the already sleep-deprived skeleton was awake.

The room's temperature seemed to drop drastically, halting your examination of the comedian. You looked up, seeing him looking right back, eye sockets void of eye-lights, permagrin tight, a deep-set crease between his furrowed browbones. And then he spoke.

**_"y o u."_ **

Oh fuck.

**_*This is all just a bad dream..._ **

You had a feeling you'd probably never wake up.


	4. The Art Of Getting Dunked On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Readz list of secrets is just adding up, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have more in it but I decided to split it in half so I could keep my 2k words per chapter guideline. Enjoy!

**_"y o u."_ **

You stood frozen in place next to Stretch, limbs unwilling to move even as your mind blared alarms and red flags waved wildly in your conscience, screaming at you, begging you to run, to look away and cower, to do _anything_ but stand there like you were! 

That one word, just a singular word, aimed at you and dripping with such deep-rooted hatred, chilled you to your core. Nobody had ever looked at you like you were the very thing that ruined their existence, like you had stolen their happiness, all with a smile on your face. 

And somewhere in the back of your mind, your thoughts supplied you with the fact that you _had_ done that, in a way. All those genocide runs, all those innocent monsters you dusted. And for what? To fight Sans and hear his battle theme? Because you wanted an actually hard _challenge_? Because you were a completionist at heart and couldn't drop a game until you exhausted every possible ending and every string of dialogue it had to offer?

**_*You feel like the scum of the Earth._ **

But there was no way in hell he knew it had been you, right? That his very being was all just code in some video game, destined to end with either freedom or massacre?

You didn't know if you wanted the answer to that. 

But again, that brought forth the age-old question. Since when did you ever get what you wanted?

You were so lost in your own head you didn't realize there was an argument going on around you until it was too late. A skeletal hand grabbed you by the back of your shirt and yanked you to the side, barely managing to pull you out of the way of the bone that had materialized out of the ground where you had just stood. If you hadn't been moved... you shivered at the thought.

"whoa there classic, ya got a _bone_ to pick with the human?" Stretch's pun fell on deaf ears, but you came to the conclusion that he had been the one to pull you away from the attack, given that his hand was still splayed against your back in a balancing gesture. You were grateful for that, with the recognition that you could have just been a human skewer, your legs were feeling a little wobbly.

"fuck, 'nilla, didn't know ya'd be this pissed off 'cause yer nap time was cut short." Red huffed out, clearly just a smidge amused at what was happening, the bastard. He stood out of the way of the standoff, Mutt somewhere off to the side of the room, watching it unfold with a curious gaze, unbeknownst to you.

Their attempts at diffusing the situation with humor were all for naught, unfortunately. Sans' focus was solely on you, and yours on him in turn. While your stance was one of nervousness and uncertainty, his was steadfast, shoulders stiff and aura cold, but the silent heaving of his chest gave way to just how much anger he was bottling up at the moment. 

You were once again pulled, this time backward, as another bone shot up from the ground. The hand on your back came to rest on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"c'mon classic, no need to let this human _rattle_ ya so badly. just calm down." Stretch tried again, and failed, it was like Sans didn't hear him at all. Red even had the audacity to start looking a little worried, red-tinted sweat beading on his skull, eye-lights wavering slightly.

"you... it's **your** fault." Sans' baritone voice sounded so... dull... no... defeated...? His tone was devoid of anger now, the melancholy lilt tugging at your heartstrings. So he did remember what you had done. Yikes, don't you feel like a jackass now. "you took them away from me..."

Hold up, pause. What? Who was he talking about? Clarification never hurt you guessed, time to speak up. 

"Took wh-" A bone shot past you, grazing your face on its way past, a wet warmth trickling down your cheek as the attack crashed against the wall and then dissipated before it could even hit the ground. Okay, nevermind, clarification _did_ hurt. 

Stretch seemed to finally reach his limit of Sans related bullshit for the day, because he stepped in front of you and held his arms out on either side of him, protecting you from future magical projectiles. "took **who** sans? who are ya talking about?"

That finally seemed to get through his thick skull, his white eye-lights returned, although they were dull and fuzzy around the edges, like he wasn't quite all there yet. "huh...?" His head tilted slightly with the inquiry.

Red let out a low groan of frustration, raising a hand and dragging it down his face in an exasperated manner, the sound of bone on bone grating in your eardrums. Wow that was _not_ a pleasant sound at _all_. "ya finally fuckin' lose yer marbles, 'nilla? ya started talkin' crazy, sayin' s'the humans fault n'that they took someone from ya." 

To his credit, Sans genuinely looked confused at that, glancing at Stretch for what you assumed was confirmation that he really did say that, which just showed he really had no recollection of what he'd done. 

Stretch nodded his head slightly, eye-lights darting to you briefly before focusing back on Sans, arms finally lowering once it seemed you weren't at risk of being a kebab anytime soon. "so, who'dja mean? who got taken?"

"oh, uh, heh... i don't... know?"

What.

WHAT?!

You seriously almost died and this sorry excuse of a pile of bones didn't even know who he was wrongly accusing you of kidnapping?!

"yeah, uh... sorry kid." Sans scratched his pointer distal phalange against his zygomatic bone, and it took every ounce of willpower you had to not smack that bashful look off of his face. "must have gotten you mixed up with someone else..." His eye-lights flitted over you like the other skeletons had, coming to a stop on your chest, his smile becoming a bit more genuine, the corners of his sockets creasing at the edges. 

Oh god no. 

"heh, guess i'm more _bone tired_ than i thought."

You were going to burn this fucking shirt, you swore. Puns were great and all but fucking shit you could only beat a dead horse for so long! You nearly preferred him trying to kill you. Nearly.

You were brought out of your thoughts when a wrapped sucker was held in front of your face. Your eyes followed the hand that was holding it to the person who owned said appendage. 

Stretch's smile was upturned in amusement as he watched you, he tapped his cheek with his free hand before shoving it into his hoodie pocket. "it's monster candy, it'll help with that cut on your cheek."

"Oh... thank you." You returned the smile with a small polite one of your own, taking the sucker and unwrapping it, tentatively putting the candy into your mouth. Distinctly non-licorice flavor, nice. 

The sharp ache on your cheek lessened and you made a small noise of appreciation. You weren't going to ask how it healed you so fast, you already knew the answer and you really didn't feel like getting jazz hands and several sarcastic variations of 'magic' as an answer.

"so uh..." Sans had shuffled up to your other side, hand on the back of his skull, rubbing it awkwardly, eye-lights suddenly finding the dirty floor very interesting. "sorry, again, 'bout trying to kill you and all. name's sans, sans the skeleton."

Oh, deadass? He's sorry? All is forgiven then!

... This bitch.

You graced the shameful skeleton with your best look of 'I'm not mad, just disappointed.' and he actually winced. Okay, not gonna lie, that made you feel a little powerful. "My name is Y/n, and for the record, you _aren't_ forgiven. That was some seriously fucked up shit you pulled, dude. Do you go around trying to spear everyone you think did something wrong?" You huffed out, crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side, daring him to give you an excuse.

"u-uh well, n-no i just-" Sans faltered, and that was all it took to pull a chortle out of Red, who was kicking the sheet you had previously been tangled in closer to the machine. 

"damn, kittens got claws eh? ya jus' met 'em and yer already in th'doghouse 'nilla? s'a new record." He snickered as he came over to your little group, earning a glare from Sans. "name's red, sweetheart, but ya can call me anytime." He purred out, winking and laying it on extra thick. 

"No." you deadpanned.

He laughed, like, actually full-bellied guffawed at that. "ha! haha! ah christ! yer a real feisty one ain'tcha? s'cute, kitten, real cute. i like ya already." He wiped a red-tinted tear out of the corner of his eye socket. 

You were genuinely starting to wonder how any of the reader inserts liked this kind of flirting, if anything, it just made you feel insignificant and underestimated. You were much more than a 'feisty kitten' to be toyed with, fucks sake.

Before your thoughts could turn dark, you directed your attention to Stretch, eager to get the introductions out of the way so you could say their nicknames without them questioning how the fuck you knew them already. 

"stretch, and your personal surveillance skeleton in the corner there is mutt." He nodded his head at something over your shoulder, and when you looked, Mutt was just standing there in the corner, watching you. You shuddered, and he gave you the most feral grin you had ever seen. 

Sensing your unease, Stretch knocked his arm against yours. "don't worry about him too much honeybee, he's more of an observer than a fighter." 

You didn't have enough energy to call out that bullshit lie, or question the sudden nickname. Sans trying to run you through with magical attacks drained you. You sighed, shoving your hands in your pajama pants pockets and hoLY SHIT-

You jolted in place as your fingers of your left hand grazed against warmed metal. 

You didn't even have to pull the object out of your pocket to know what it was, fingertips running over the embossed symbols, the winding key, the latch that kept it held shut, and the heavy chain attached to it. The Locket. But... how? How was it in your pocket if you left it on your dresser last night? 

You didn't dare mention you had the jewelry, if by chance the other three didn't know what it was, you knew Sans did. The thing had 99 DEF in the geno route, it was a staple for Sans' fight if you wanted to last more than .1 second. You were sure his previous attempt on your life would be child's play to what he would do to you if he saw you with it.

"ya okay there, honeybee? you look a little sick." Stretch's concerned voice rang out and you shook off your rapidly darkening imagination. 

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Just... tired." You smiled with what you hope was enough confidence for him to drop it. 

Thankfully, he did.

He smiled sympathetically at you and nodded. "yeah, guess this is pretty tiring, nyeh heh." Hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, he shrugged. "well, hope ya can get used to it, since ya aren't from this world, you'll need to stay with us for a while until we can send ya back." 

You gave a short nod, you knew this whole song and dance, you just hoped it ended with you actually being sent back home, you couldn't come up with half-truths and dodge their questions about yourself and your world forever, try as you might. 

Stretch looked beyond amused. "you're taking this all pretty well for someone who's never seen monsters and landed in an alternate universe."

You choked. That sure lasted fucking long now didn't it.

Before you could stumble out a bullshit reply, he laughed that little 'nyeh heh heh' laugh and held up a hand. "m'just _ribbin'_ ya, honeybee, it's good you're so calm 'bout this all, makes it a hell of a lot easier for us. c'mon, we got a few guest rooms you can choose from, let's leave the _boneheads_ to mess around with the machine." 

Without waiting for your confirmation, he turned on his heel and set a lazy pace for the double doors, you following hot on his trail. With one last glance towards the three skeletons left in the room (who all seemed to be mid-rant about science bullshit you couldn't ever hope to understand), you exited the room, fingers brushing against the locket in your pocket. 

**_*You could almost feel it beating._ **


	5. You're Dead Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest in pepperoni Readz- nvm they're fine now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long to get out! Also uhhh gore warning??? Proceed with caution if that kind of stuff bothers you!

Something about this house was... off.

It was a lavish home (more like fucking mansion), you could tell that much as soon as you stepped through the double doors and out of the lab, quickly discovering you were in the basement as you ascended the concrete staircase up into a beige tiled laundry room, you didn't have much time to examine around the room, but you could recognize the bright yellow MTT logo on a... Stain **EXTERMINATOR** Washer and Passionate Heat Dryer ...? What the fuck? Oooookay, looks like Mettaton expanded his product line after they surfaced. 

Assuming this _was_ the surface. The basement lab didn't have any windows for you to check, and neither did the laundry room as Stretch led you through it and out into a well-lit hallway. The walls were painted sage green and the floor was what looked to be glossed oak planks with dark green and white lattice patterned rugs leading further down another hall to the left. 

You nearly ran into his back as he halted and turned around to face you. 

"stay here." He ordered.

Excuse??? You??? 

"Why?" You shot back, eyeing him suspiciously as he shifted his weight from foot to foot under your scrutiny, eye-lights darting down the hall before focusing back on you.

"i... gotta give the others a lil' heads up about our sudden company. not gonna lie, honeybee, didn't uh... didn't expect the violent behavior from classic but... well... we got a few others livin' here that aren't too fond of humans... unless they know you're here, they... might assume the worst about ya." He explained carefully.

You knew what he meant to say, and you'd bet your entire savings account (you were a college student so it wasn't much in the first place) that he was talking about Fellswap Sans and Underfell Papyrus. Black and Edge. You could safely assume those two would be giving you a hard time. There was no telling _how_ many alternate universes had been merged together, but you got the feeling that some of the more... unfortunate timelines were here as well. 

Still, you had the role of human-who-doesn't-know-jack-shit-about-monsters-or-where-they-are to play. You had to ask the obvious. 

"You mean they'll kill me...?" You used your best concerned voice, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

"probably wouldn't grant ya the MERCY of death-" You wince at that, and he quickly amends his mistake. "-but you'll be fine if ya just stay here. i'll go round up the others so ya can meet 'em properly and then we can get ya to a room, alright honeybee?" 

His words felt less like a request and more like a plead of 'don't do anything stupid while i'm gone.', and paired with that anxious expression he was giving you, you cracked.

You sighed, waving your hand in dismissal, eyeing the other doors in the hallway, already formulating your game plan on which to snoop in first as you spoke. "Alright, alright, I'll stay here, won't move an inch till you get back, promise."

If he knew you were a lying little shit, he didn't voice it, instead nodding his approval at your false docility before placing a hand atop your head, ruffling your hair like an approving father would to his child. 

Before you could smack his hand away and give him a long and vehement lecture about personal-fucking-space. He teleported away. Another headcanon confirmed, bone boys and running away from their issues go hand in hand. 

Huffing in frustration, you messed with your hair until it was back in proper form, wandering down the hallway towards the first door that caught your eye, it looked plain enough, painted a cream white shade, and you _would_ have found out if it was unlocked or not if the photos hung on the wall hadn't caught your attention. 

There were standard (almost stereotypical even) family photos in dark wooden frames placed intricately along the wall. The off feeling from before returned with a vengeance as you studied the photos, despite some little voice in the back of your head whispering at you to not look too closely. 

_It's not important. Don't try to find what's wrong with it._

Yeaaaaaah. Nah, fuck that, you were looking. Suck a dick, voice in your head.

Most of the pictures looked like candids and impromptu snapshots, like how a mom would tell her kids to all cram together and pretend they liked each other for five seconds so she could have something to post on Facebook, along with a bible verse and how grateful she was for her family. 

The subjects of the photos were, unsurprisingly, the skeletons from multiple timelines. There was a set of photos of what looked to be a beach trip. In one, Sans and Stretch were in blue and orange swim trunks respectively, laying on multicolored beach towels under an umbrella in the pale sand, eyes closed and grins lax, most likely catching some z's. 

In another, Mutt and Black were in a rowboat out in the water, Black was poised under a white sun parasol, plum purple swim-shirt-and-short combo fitted against his bones, sleek and expensive-looking sunglasses taped to his face, though his skull was tilted towards the assumed photographer, sharp smile full of sass, just as you would expect. Mutt donned burnt orange swim trunks and had one hand gripping a paddle, the other raised in a lazy wave, once again directed at the photographer, who had to be in at least knee-deep water to snap such a photo. 

The next one, oh fucking **hell** the next one! Red was dead to the world, asleep and buried in the sand, a nice pair of sand boobs on his chest with seashells covering where the not Tumblr approved female-presenting nipples would have been, and a long sand mermaid tail covering his hips down to his feet. If that wasn't fucking funny enough, Edge's warpath towards his brother caught mid-stride was the comical little cherry on top. He was wearing one of those old fashioned one-piece men swimsuits! The ones with the large stripes that weren't flattering on literally anybody. The stripes of his were black and wine red, real shocker with the color choice there. 

But fuck! Wait! There's more!

He was wearing a fucking boater hat! With a ribbon that matched the red of his swimwear tied around it. Always the fashion icon, wasn't he.

Where the image of Red and Edge nearly made you lose your shit and piss yourself, the next in the sequence had you near tears. Papyrus and Blue wore swim trunks you could only assume came from some little boys section. Papyrus' were black with a flame design starting at the legs and raising, it reminded you heavily of the rug in his room in the game. Blue's trunks were navy blue melded with deep purples and soft pinks and bright greens littered with small white specks. A galaxy pattern, you realized. 

And while yes, that was, in fact, the cutest shit you've ever fucking seen. The small detail of them riding on that banana boat thing you attached to the back of a speedboat was a beautiful addition. Papyrus was mid-happy scream. At least you thought it was happy, it was a safe bet if the flush of tangerine on his zygomatic bones said anything, and Blue had those blown wide blue stars in his sockets. 

You glossed over other photos as you meandered further down the hall. A cookout, stargazing, Christmas celebration, numerous birthdays, and so on and so forth. While some pictures gave you warm fuzzies and others made you snicker, none had really set off that 'oh fuck bad shit' vibe you had first gotten. That is, until you stopped in front of the largest frame on the wall. 

And your blood

**ran**

**_cold._ **

If the sudden image of Wing Dings Gaster wasn't shell-shocking enough, then the foreign and hostile energy radiating from the photo was. Everything about it just screamed 'wrong wrong terrible wrong terribly terriblewrongstoppleasewrONGTERRIBLE-'. You had to put a hand over your lips to hold back the bile rising in your throat, a sharp and acrid taste filling your mouth, clogging your senses. 

The photo was incredibly innocent, placed lovingly in the frame, hung carefully on the nail in the wall. Gaster stood behind Sans and Papyrus, arms folded behind his back. Gone was the goopy erased-from-existence-and-yeeted-into-the-void mess, instead he was very... not goopy. Lithe frame stiff and impossibly professional. The unnaturally smooth fracture rising from his lidded crescent eye socket to the back of his skull and the one lowering from the wide-open socket to merge with his mouth didn't seem to hinder his powerful aura at all. Tall and proud behind his sons, sporting a grey turtleneck sweater and a black overcoat. 

Sans stood on the right, wearing a similarly colored sweater and his standard blue hoodie, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Papyrus was to the left, being the ray of sunshine he was, wearing a bright red sweater. The photo cut off at the waist, not that you were particularly interested in what kind of pants they were wearing. No, you were morbidly transfixed on their facial expressions.

They seemed happy enough upon first glance, smiles stretched wide and eye sockets crinkled in the corners. ... Smiles stretched painfully wide, straining against the moldable bone of their faces, eye sockets a little too crinkled, bordering squint territory. Gasters and Sans' eye-lights were a bit too dull for comfort, like they could flicker out at any moment. The barely noticeable bags under all of their sockets was equally as alarming. Try as they might to look happy, they all just looked... so lost...

And what was up with that awkward space between Paps and Sans? They were two peas in a pod, right? So why stand so far away, hell it was enough distance to fit another person into the picture and-

**THUNK**

and you think you regret saying the photo of Red and Edge nearly made you piss yourself, because that was nowhere near how close you were now.

It probably had something to do with the glowing red bone with a needle-sharp end sticking out of the wall right fucking next to the photo you were just looking at. Probably.

Two sharp clacking footfalls were your only warning at how close your assailant was getting, you whipped around just in time to-

**_THUNK_ **

**_CRACK_ **

**_plip_ **

**_plip_ **

have a bone attack lodged directly through your chest, effectively nailing you to the wall just like one of the many photos you were looking at only moments ago. 

The thunking noise must have been the initial sound of the magical projectile entering your body, the cracking being your ribs shattering to pitiful pieces as they weren't strong enough to keep the attack from piercing your vital organs... or maybe it was the sound of you biting clean through the monster candy sucker still in your mouth as you slammed your teeth down on it to muffle your banshee-like scream of pain. 

Not that you would have been able to scream anyway, you couldn't gather any air into your lungs, the bone had most likely slashed it open. Fuck... Fuck, oh fuck. Oh, Jesus fuck. 

It **burned!**

You couldn't **breathe!**

Help... please...

"...h...hel.....p..ple...ease..." Your chest constricted painfully tight, drawing a whimpering wheeze through your lips, desperate to get oxygen into your body. 

No such luck. 

You gurgled out another weak call, mouth filling with warm coppery saliva.

**Blood.**

You were going to choke and suffocate to death with your own blood. 

Your heart thundered in your ears, fruitlessly attempting to push blood throughout your body. Shouldn't you have lost consciousness by now? Slipped into the never-ending slumber that came with prolonged asphyxiation?

_The monster candy._

Of fucking course, the gift from Stretch ended up a double-edged sword. The magic wasn't enough to heal you fully, leaving you in the excruciating limbo of keeping you alive _just enough_ to feel every little nerve in your body light up with panic and pain. You were dying tortuously slow.

"...LLY ARE MORONIC." A voice not unlike sandpaper and thick molasses clogged your ears.

...Wha?

The black spots clouded your vision with the substantial lack of liquid life force in your body, the crimson color pooling below your feet instead of circulating in your veins. Even still, you could just barely make out the foreboding figure looming above you. 

Sharp zygomatic bones, pointed teeth forming a wicked smirk, deep sockets narrowed into a harsh glare, candied apple red-colored pinprick eye-lights swimming in a sea of inky black void. Three long scars dragged from the top of his browbone and down, passing through his right socket and coming to a stop about an inch from the bottom of said socket.

**Edge.**

You let out another wet wheeze, lungs collapsing pathetically in your chest. You just had to explore when you were warned not to. Guess you learned your lesson. 

Edge's booming tone jolted you out of your smartass thoughts about yourself.

"NOT LISTENING? TYPICAL." He straightened his spine, standing to his full intimidating height, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders stiff and raised in a practiced posture. He continued. "WHILE SOME HUMANS ARE AVERAGE AT BEST WITH THEIR INTELLIGENCE, CRIMINALS NEVER CEASE TO DISAPPOINT ME WITH HOW STUPID THEY CAN BE."

You didn't respond, you couldn't. It didn't matter to him if you did or not.

"SO ALLOW ME TO IMPART SOME WISDOM TO YOU, THEIF. WHERE I COME FROM, TERRITORY IS CRUCIAL TO ONE'S STATUS AS A POWERFUL OVERSEER, AND IF YOU ARE CAUGHT TRESPASSING..." His expression turned downright maniacal, a fiery glint in his eye-lights. He enjoyed this. 

"WELL, YOU MAKE A FINE EXAMPLE OF WHAT HAPPENS." 

Your heart gave its last weak flutter. Vision blurring, Edge's voice faded out, the gentle chime of a music box and someone calling your name lulling you into a cold embrace.

And then it all went dark.

_Dark_

**Darker**

**_Yet Darker_ **

...

**600 words selected. Delete this selection?**

**Yes** **No**

**Yes**

** Selection Deleted **

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Two sharp clacking footfalls were your only warning at how close your assailant was getting, you whipped around just in time to-

**_THUNK_ **

**_*Miss_ **

dodge the next attack with a grace that wasn't your own. Your heart hammered in your chest, lungs constricting painfully but- no... no... you were _fine._ The bone hadn't hit you. Instead buried into the wall where you were standing mere seconds ago. 

What the actual flying fuck just happened?! Hadn't you been dead like a minute ago?! You clearly remember dying, the phantom chest pains attesting to that. 

Oh fuck, wait. Did you go back in time?! Did you somehow manage to RESET?! LOAD?! Wasn't that only available to the person with the highest amount of Determination in the world? Ooohhh no, not good, that was _not_ good. Did you take Frisk's powers? _Were_ you Frisk now? 

No, no, you couldn't be. That train of thought was fucking ridiculous. You'd... probably know if you were Frisk...right?

Fuck.

"HUMAN."

Oh, right. You were in the middle of being attacked, weren't you? 

You focused back on Edge, who looked more than a little miffed at the fact you weren't a bleeding out decoration on the wall. 

"YOUR AGILITY IS ADEQUATE." He bit out, like the very thought of you having any sort of physical prowess left a bad taste in his mouth. "HAD THIS BEEN ANY OTHER SITUATION, I MIGHT HAVE EVEN OFFERED UP MY TRAINING REGIMEN TO HONE IN THAT SKILL."

Oh gag you with a spoon, Edge is as entitled as always. 

"UNFORTUNATELY YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO BREAK INTO THE HOME OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE EDGE, AND EVEN WITH YOUR KNACK FOR DODGING, IT WILL NOT BE ENOUGH! PREPARE TO-"

"Oh my god, _please_ shut the hell up. I didn't fucking break in." You groaned out, rolling your eyes. You didn't miss how his posture went rigid, clawed phalanges twitching at his sides. He didn't like being interrupted apparently.

He stepped forward in a threatening manner, giving you a close up of what he was wearing. A black muscle tank with the logo to some gym on it, the large armholes showing off plenty of skeletal side-boob, or you know, ribs. Scarlet red track pants with two black stripes down the outer sides of the legs, and standard black tennis shoes. He was either getting ready to jog or had just gotten back. 

"YOU-"

"honeybee!"

Both Edge and you turned at the call, though the tall skeleton let out a growl of annoyance. Stretch was in the hallway, standing where he had originally left you, looking god awful. Orange tinted sweat dotting his skull, eye-lights practically gone with how small and sharp they were until they landed on you. He sagged with relief, quickly making his way over to the two of you. 

He placed his hands on your shoulders, studying you intently, eye-lights darting to any exposed skin you had, obviously checking for wounds. "ya ain't hurt, are ya?" He sounded so worried. You didn't have a scratch on you, why was he... oh. 

Right.

Judges and their ability to remember past timelines and all that. He must have either heard or seen you die before the RESET... LOAD... thing. Yikes.

"I'm fine, Stretch. Really. Why wouldn't I be?" You gave an innocent and reassuring smile. He looked conflicted at that. 

"because ya... nevermind." He sighed. "thought i told ya to stay put." 

"I did stay... in the same hallway." Smartass tone: Maximum. 

He snorted and rolled his eye-lights, finally taking his hands off your shoulders and shoving them back in his hoodie pockets, he turned his body slightly to face Edge, who had his arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. 

"edge, this is y/n, our _guest_ i was tryin' to tell ya about before ya left in the middle of my explanation." 

Edge scoffed, gave you a once over, turned on his heel, and stalked off down the hall. Welp, o-fucking-kay then. You turned to ask Stretch what crawled up Edge's ass and died- and there Sans was, talking in a hushed tone with Stretch. Not hushed enough, though, you kinda were standing two fucking feet away from them. 

"ya think frisk...?" Stretch started.

"nah, kid doesn't even know we got another one here, gotta call 'em up soon though... they might be like 'em." Sans finished, shrugging his shoulders and taking a phone out of his pocket. 

You weren't stupid. 'They' was you. And Sans thought you were like Frisk... in what aspect, exactly, you didn't know, probably the whole 'total control stopping and starting timelines god' powers. Which you were maybe 98% sure you didn't have. The dying and coming back thing chipped off that 2%. 

Clearly, the conversation had ended at that, Stretch was back at your side and Sans had fucked off somewhere to probably have a private phone call with Frisk. 

"y/n?" The orange hoodied skeleton nudged you gently.

"Mm?" You responded automatically, staring off into the distance, though you tilted your head to show you were listening. 

"got the others all rounded up, ya ready to go meet 'em? i'll be with ya so ya won't have a repeat of... edge." It was almost funny how cautious and protective he was being. You die once and suddenly you're needing a personal body gaurd at all times. 

It almost seemed like he was baiting you into mentioning your own death. To see what you knew. Well, sorry skele-man. You were in it for the long haul. 

"Yeah, I'm ready, let's go meet the _skeleton crew_ ." You let a genuine smile curl at your lips as he repressed a chuckle at your pun, shoulders shaking gently with laughter. You found yourself thinking that amusement suited him much better than the tired and worried expression he seemed to have permanently etched into his features.

He led you down the hallway, you put your hands into your pockets, gently toying with the locket resting safely in the fabric of your pants. The metal seemed to be even warmer than before. 

Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, staying here for a while. Maybe you'd be able to handle it.

**_*What a joke._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story isn't planned in the slightest LMAO but if you'd like to see a certain AU added just lmk in the comments! The ones I have pre-added is pretty much just the baseline!


	6. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This shit ain't adding up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh?? My God??? 250 kudos and 2.1k hits??? Thank you so much??? That's so amazing?? I never thought this story would even get a fraction of that! This really just started as me needing an outlet for some creative juices, thank you so much!!

Getting killed suddenly seemed worlds better than what was happening right now. 

As soon as you had stepped a single foot into the living room, all eye-lights and... er... _lack_ of were on you. Each skeleton was sitting next to their respective brother (besides Stretch, he, as he assured, was standing right next to you) on a cluster of tan-colored sofas and matching loveseats, all angled facing the arched entryway of the room, a dainty little mahogany coffee table situated in front of the comfortable-looking furniture. 

Even the skele-boys that were previously down in the lab had come upstairs to join in on what looked like some fucking divine intervention, and you were the unlucky bitch at the business end of their unrelenting stares. 

The unspoken tension hung thick in the air, suffocating you and effectively muting whatever half-assed greeting your anxiety-riddled mind was trying to get your lips to form. 

Seeing as neither the other skeletons nor you were going to speak first, Stretch sighed and took the reins. That would be four times the honey-loving skeleton had saved your ass now... not that you had been counting.

"ya remember that new guest i gathered ya for? this is-" 

"A HUMAN!!" A Sans type skeleton leapt from his spot on one of the couches, his voice a pitch higher than classic Sans' tone, full to bursting with positive energy. The bright and enlarged cerulean stars in his sockets giving away who he was. 

Underswap Sans, Blue. 

Damn, he was just as cute as the fandom made him, he'd be a lot cuter if he wasn't fucking screaming in your face though. 

"PAPY! YOU DIDN'T SAY THEY WERE A HUMAN!! WOWZERS! YOU'RE SO SMALL!!" Blue bounced in a circle around you, examining you like you were a shiny brand new toy. It was... more than a little concerning. 

"HELLO HUMAN!! MY NICKNAME IS BLUEBERRY! BUT EVERYONE JUST CALLS ME BLUE!! WHAT'S YOUR NICKNAME?? OH, OH! LET ME GUESS! IS IT TINY? BECAUSE YOU'RE SO LITTLE, MWEH HEH HEH! ARE YOU A SANS OR A PAPYRUS? I'M A SANS! OH! WHAT IS YOUR WORLD LIKE? WERE YOU ON THE SURFACE BEFORE YOU CAME HERE? PAPY AND I WERE ON THE SURFACE FOR A LITTLE WHILE! SINCE YOU'RE A HUMAN, CAN YOU STILL USE MAGIC LIKE US? WHAT'S YOUR SOUL TRAIT?? I BET IT'S-" 

"woah bro, calm down, they just got here, ya don't wanna overwhelm them do ya? let's save the hard questions for when they settle in a bit, yeah?" Stretch pacified his brother, though Blue visibly deflated, going from the 'just fuck me up fam' setting on a Hitachi Magic Wand Vibrator™ to 'dead body stiff' in a matter of seconds. 

"OH... I'M... I'M SORRY HUMAN, THAT WAS VERY RUDE OF ME..."

Well fuck, now he looks like a kicked puppy. Fix it, bitch.

"Oh uh, no it's all good... it's nice to meet you, Blue..." 

Nailed it.

Now that he wasn't moving faster than your mind could register, you could see the trainwreck of an outfit he was wearing. It was like a toddler was allowed to dress themselves. 

His t-shirt was baby-blue with small lemon-yellow stars dotting along randomly, an unbuttoned cable knit pistachio-green cardigan resting overtop of it, his cobalt bandana secured tightly around his neck, although it seemed more worn out than what most fanworks depicted. Pedal pusher style shorts in a color that can only be described as 'severely dehydrated and probably several other underlying health issues that haven't been diagnosed yet' piss-yellow with small white flowery designs patterning the fabric. And worst of all? Pastel-pink crew socks tucked into the most god awful shade of puke-green Birkenstock sandals. 

Socks and sandals. Why couldn't you end up in a universe where that was a crime? 

Before the onslaught on your eyes could permanently blind you and save you from ever having to witness that sort of monstrosity again, your ears were blessed by quite possibly the most gentle and soothing voice you'd heard in your lifetime. And by god was it coming from the person you expected the least. 

"Hello, New Friend! I'm Sure You Must Be Very Confused About All This! I'm Papyrus! Well, The Papyrus From This World, Nyeh Heh Heh! Now, I'm Sure Our Lazy Brothers Didn't Bother Explaining, So I Will Be Happy To Do So! It Is Already A Plus That You Aren't Acting Out! We've Had Quite A Few... Unreasonable Encounters That-" 

Aaaaaand there you go. Zoned the fuck out, actually, it was more like being in shock due to how... not screamy he was, unlike the other eccentric personalities. You did always figure he would learn to not shout if he spent enough time on the surface and around humans willing to teach him, quite a few of your own works post-ascension had that factored in. 

Huh.

More lucky guesses. 

Earth to Y/n? Hello? Establish a connection, please? Y/n people are _talking to you-_

You break away from your thoughts, having to tilt your head upwards because Papyrus got up from his seat and-oh dear Neptune-did he hold himself high! You had just gotten used to Stretch's slouching form that you had forgotten the true height of the bigger brothers, it wasn't as if you could really focus on Edge's vertical measurements while he was _murdering_ you, so...

Uh...

Papyrus was getting _awfully_ close...

Oh, okay, now he's holding your hands with his own, bigger, ruby-red mittened hands. 

Is...Is he talking? Should you be listening? If it was important you'd have tuned back in by now, right? 

That's a pretty nice shirt, it was black with a little skeleton in a chef's hat printed onto it, the words 'Bone Appétit' under it. It was comforting to not be the only one wearing a shitty pun shirt. Overtop the shirt was a pristine white bomber jacket, it looked brand new, but knowing Papyrus, he probably just took extremely good care of it. The scarlet-red pop of color wrapped around his neck was a welcome normalcy amongst the chaos. That signature billowing scarf that had seen so much throughout the years was situated dutifully on his shoulders, but just like Blue's bandanna, it sported quite a few more rips and tears. 

The acid-washed blue jeans he was wearing had several distressed spots on it, but they looked more like a fashion statement than naturally occurring wear and tear. To finish off the look, the optimistic skeleton had on white high top tennis shoes with laces colored the same scarlet-red as his scarf. 

Now _that_ is how you coordinate an outfit, Blue should take notes. 

"New Friend...?"

Ah shit, what was he talking about? Explaining this universe maybe...? 

"Yeah? I mean... sorry I uh... I spaced out... sorry." You mumbled out your apology, and by the worried look Papyrus was giving you, you were sure you looked every bit as lost and frazzled as you felt. This whole ordeal was taking its toll on you. You needed a fucking nap.

Stretch was _not_ helping. He had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. It's not like you didn't appreciate his attempt of comfort, but this was what, the third time he's just touched you without asking in the span of the like two hours he's known you? 

Note to self; teach idiot skeletons about personal space ASAP.

"s'alright, honeybee, ya've already met edge, no need for reintroductions there." 

Mentioned edgy skeletal bastard just scoffed and rolled his eye-lights, lounging on a loveseat with his brother at his side, who was looking between the two of you, probably wondering what the fuck happened. 

That only left one monster. 

He was sitting beside Mutt, hands folded neatly in his lap, shoulders straight and chin level. His expression was schooled into an unamused scowl, sharp teeth downturned in disproval. The two long gashes over his left socket adding to his intimidation, even if he was the picture-perfect description of tolerance, the bright crimson dots in his sockets gave way to just how closely he was watching you. _Cold_ and **calculating.**

Black was without question the best dressed out of everyone. A wine-red ascot was tucked into his black dress shirt, delicate and similarly red-colored silk gloves hugging his intertwined hands. Black slacks adorned his crossed legs, and you sucked in a breath at his shoes. The absolute madlad was wearing glossed black leather oxford style dress shoes with at _least_ seven-inch heels. 

Fucking hell, he had to have had those custom made, there's no way he could have found those in any store. He was serving looks and you were eating that shit right out of his hand. 

Alright, maybe you had a soft spot for Fellswap Sans. Come on, well-dressed smug assholes were so loveable! He was smart and knew exactly how to use everything he had to his advantage. How could he not be your favorite?

"YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS CAPTAIN BLACK, HUMAN."

Nevermind. Respect gone. You only wished whichever brain cell was piloting your mouth would check in with the reasonable thinking department in your brain, but those little shits were always understaffed and late to the party.

"Yeah, no, I'm not fucking calling you that." Stretch gripped you a little tighter at your words, and you were sure if it wouldn't get you both into assloads of trouble, he would be rolling on the floor laughing, teeth fighting to stay in a neutral line and not quirk upwards. Clearly, it wasn't often Black was talked back to.

Said skeleton was seconds away from leaving his seat in favor of wringing your neck. Uh oh, quick, say something stupid. 

"I'm Y/n, not a Sans or a Papyrus... but uh... all of you _are_ , so, how'd you decide what to call one another?"

...

NOT THAT STUPID-

For fucks sake, obviously the nicknames came from their personalities and the colors they favored wearing! And realistically you know the origins of the names came from the fandom, but that shitstorm doesn't exist here, so was it really so wrong of you to wonder who suggested the naming system? 

You'd read enough fics to get a general idea that it was usually Classic Sans' idea, and the pairs just named themselves or took the first suggestion that was thrown their way. Or hell even the main character was in charge of naming the boys, but there didn't seem to be any human here besides you so...

So...

So why was no one jumping up to claim the title of nickname creator...

Nobody was speaking at all...

If you squinted you could practically see the gears turning in their skulls, the confusion and... hurt... flooding their features. Yikes, what the fuck is up with that? 

Your ears strained to make out Papyrus' next words, his voice was hardly above a whisper. 

"Brother... How Did We Come Up With Those Names...?" The poor ray of sunshine looked damn near tears, struggling internally to remember something, _anything._

Sans was the exact opposite. At his brother's question, his confusion morphed into thinly veiled anger. The same anger that had been directed at you in the lab. 

You should have been worried. Why weren't you? Because you didn't know if it was even directed at you now? Because if you died, it didn't matter? You'd just come back anyway, so was there a point in worrying about your safety anymore? You were practically immortal.

That kind of thinking was a little fucked up, you decided to cut that shit out. 

Just in time too, looks like Sans was getting his sudden anger under control again. 

"heh, dunno bro. couldn't've been me, i got nothin' goin' on in my thick skull." Sans curled his phalanges and knocked against his own skull to really drive the joke home, earning huffs from the Papyrus personalities and pulling snickers from the Judges. Sans really had a knack for diffusing and distracting, didn't he. 

It was enough to direct Papyrus away from what you had originally asked, his face lighting up with a sudden realization. 

"Ah, New Friend Y/n! You Must Be Hungry, Yes? We Had Just Finished Cleaning Up Breakfast, But It Is No Trouble To Reheat The Leftovers! The Great Papyrus' Cooking Is Always Delicious, Hot Off The Stove Or After Some Time In The Microwave, Nyeh Heh Heh!"

Oh boy, did he just say it was _his_ cooking?

You _really_ **_really_** didn't feel like dealing with food poisoning on top of everything else that was happening. 

...

Oh god damnit how does a skeleton even give you puppy dog eyes?!

You weak bitch, you caved.

"Y-Yeah... uh... sounds great, Paps... I'd love to try your cooking..." 

**_*You really would rather not._ **

**_*But... Seeing the skeleton so happy that you accepted fills you with... something._ **

You follow behind Papyrus as he excitedly leads you into the kitchen just across the hallway, the arched entryways being tall enough so that he wouldn't have to duck down to go inside the rooms, but not before noticing Sans watching you like a hawk as you exit the living room. 

The kitchen is... well, let's just say it took one look at your apartment's kitchen, laughed, spit on it, and then left. It looked even better than Gordon fucking Ramsay's kitchen, equipped with the latest models in appliances, and even some things you didn't recognize. More MTT brand, you assumed.

The floor was patterned with black and white hexagon-shaped tile, cleaned so meticulously you could nearly see your reflection in the ceramic. The walls were lined with glossy white beveled bricks, several black marbled countertops situated against the walls, one sporting an empty silver double basin sink. A fridge, oven, and dishwasher all tucked neatly next to each other. All sorts of cooking utensils were organized on a hanging wall mount, a rotating spice rack sitting next to the oven on one of the countertops. A microwave was among several hanging black oak cabinets, and right in the middle of the room was a marbled island with several cushioned bar stools surrounding it. 

If your roommate who was taking culinary classes saw this, they'd probably cream their pants. 

The sound of a plate clinking against the island surface pulled you out of your exploration, Papyrus had just finished heating your food. 

It looked...

Completely normal???

Fluffy, perfectly browned pancakes, rich yellow scrambled eggs, and crunchy bacon greeted you. And it was even positioned to make a smiling face. Okay, that was fucking adorable. 

Papyrus was standing nearby, looking incredibly hopeful. If you die from this, at least it would make him happy that you ate his cooking.

Filled with a newfound confidence and a stubborn urge to please the tall skeleton, you dug right in, shoveling the food into your mouth with the fork provided.

It...

The taste...

It was...

SWEET TITS IT WAS AMAZING?! 

Vigor renewed, you inhaled half the plate before angling yourself to both acknowledge Papyrus and continue your meal. You nearly choked. Oh god, oh fuck, he looked so _happy_! 

You swallowed your mouthful of deliciousness before speaking, cause you aren't fucking rude, who speaks with their mouth full? "Pap-oh my _god_ -Pap _where_ did you learn to cook like this? This is?? So amazing?? It's the best thing I've eaten in a while!" And that was the truth. It really was that good, living off of boxed mac and cheese and cup ramen with your college budget really destroyed the ol' tastebuds after a while. 

Papyrus beamed, his smile wide and proud, he posed dramatically, one hand on his hip and the other laid flat on his chest. "Well, That Is Simple New Friend Y/n! My Great Experience Came From This Very Kitchen! It Was A Treacherous Journey, But The Lessons Were Nothing The Great Papyrus Couldn't Handle!"

???

Lessons?

From who???

The Judge personalities were way too lazy to actually say their brothers cooking was shit and offer lessons, and the eccentric boys were oblivious to the clusterfuck that was their culinary skills. 

Undyne was out of the question, she could cook about as well as she could confess her gay ass feelings for Alphys. Toriel maybe...? Nah, probably not, Toriel seemed like the type to want to do everything in the kitchen, and God help anyone who tried to take over.

You ate the last bite of heaven on a plate, smiling gently at Papyrus as he took your empty dish and fork and headed to the sink to wash it off. "Who taught you? They must be some kind of master chef if their lessons made you cook that well, I can only imagine how wonderful their food would be."

The sudden sound of the plate dropping into the sink basin made you jolt, Papyrus stood stock still, water running down his bare hands, having taken off the mittens so they wouldn't get wet. 

Uh...

Did you say something wrong...?

The usually optimistic skeleton let out a soft 'nyeh heh' before going back to washing the plate, facial expression clouded over with woe. 

"That Is... Strange... I Cannot Remember Who Taught Me... It Is Not Often I Forget Something So... Important."

Okay so like... was constant amnesia a skeleton thing or?? You were seriously disturbed at this point. Shouldn't they all be seeing a doctor about this kind of thing? It's like whole parts of their memories had been edited or something, the event was still there, but the people in question had been removed.

Well... a sad Papyrus is never a good Papyrus, you worried your bottom lip, lifting a hand to reach out and touch his shoulder in comfort-

"y/n."

Aw fuck. 

You turned. Sans was leaning casually against the kitchen entryway, eye-lights trained on you, a lazy grin cemented on his face. Man, he wasn't even trying to seem nonthreatening. 

"Yeah, what's up?" You tried to be casual, but maybe your smile was a little too forced, posture a bit too rigid, because he straightened up, jerking his head to the side, sockets narrowing and permagrin tightening. 

"m'givin' you a tour of the house, you're gonna be stayin' here a while, so, gotta pick out a room, right _buddy?_ "

Well, fuck you six ways from Sunday. 

You had no choice but to follow the shuffling skeleton out of the kitchen. 

Hopefully, this wasn't another attempt on your life. 

**_*Get real._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna go ahead and apologize for the sporadic updates, I don't have a schedule for these chapters and usually get small bursts of motivation randomly so... sorry about that! That being said, your comments really drive me to keep writing this! Most of them make me laugh so damn hard and I'm so interested in what you think is gonna happen in this story! Thanks for being amazing readers!


	7. D̵̥̘͍̏̅̍̑ǫ̵̧̼̞̰͔̺̯̞̫̭͎͉̀͋̂̿̕ñ̶̡̜̖̹̪̻͇̬̫̤̺̬̈́̔̑'̴͎̯͉͔̳͖͚͓͂͗̔̒͒̅̋͂͋̂̎̂̈ţ̶̡̢̼͎̟͕̗̦̳͔͓͌͜ ̸̡̮͖̪͖̩̗͓͍̫̻͍̂͊̀ͅF̵̟̞̒͊̏̊̌̾̑́ȯ̴̪̃̈r̷̳̩̱͍͚̫͈͍͎̠̿̐͊̎͜ģ̸̡͖͈͍̥̰͇̳͔͑̌̀̓̑̋͆̆è̶̢̨̨͍̖̥͍̭͓͖͋̎̆̑̃̚t̶͕͙̰͍̣̪̼̝̽̋̎͒͘

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P̷̡̡̧̮̰͂l̴̨̡̖̠̔̓̈́̄̐̚̕͝e̶̢̮͙̦͍͝a̴̛̠͑̏̄̎̽̏̑̅̃̋̏̌s̸̯̲̞͓̭̖̦̭͚̯̺̈́̔̀̋̔͝ͅè̷͙͑̐̋͊ͅ

When they were around, it was like a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel. 

It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was shining, birds are singing, flowers were blooming. 

On days like these... he could relax. 

The barrier had been broken some time ago, and although monsters transitioning into human society had been anything but smooth, things eventually settled down, with the exception of a few radical groups. 

But even with those minor setbacks, he couldn't find it in himself to worry too much. 

Not when he had them at his side. 

When and where he met them wasn't important, he never was good at remembering specific dates anyway. After so many loops in a seemingly endless game of timeline musical chairs, it was hard to differentiate what events happened in what route. 

But after a certain pacifist run, the anomaly, the kid, promised him they wouldn't start anew again.

No more SAVE's.

No more LOAD's.

No more RESET's.

No more Genocide.

He was skeptical, of course. 

The first year on the surface he was on edge, every night he went to bed with the possibility that when he woke up, it would be back in his mess of a room in his house in Snowdin. 

But it never happened. 

The second year, he started sleeping a little easier at night. The nightmares still plagued his mind every chance they got, attacking every happy thought with a _'what if'_ here and a _'but maybe'_ there. But it was tolerable. He was on the surface, Papyrus was alive and happy. This was their longest run yet.

He started to have Hope again. 

The third year was the hardest he'd been hit emotionally in a long, long time. He relapsed, one nightmare was a little too realistic for his anxiety-riddled mind, leading up to one destroyed bedroom and a very worried group of monsters and a single human. 

Therapy, Papyrus suggested. 

So he went. 

It was nice to disclose his terrors to someone who _wasn't_ the cause of them. Nobody else remembered what the kid did, and it didn't really matter if his therapist thought he was crazy or not. He was paying them to listen and offer ways to curb his attacks. That was it. 

It was also the year he met them. 

It was a rough start, he was ready to admit it was mostly his fault. 

He _might_ have had human-trust issues. 

But, despite his cold attitude and slightly racist remarks, they were determined to befriend him. 

And they succeeded.

He was getting better, slowly, but surely. 

The fourth year, they moved in with Papyrus and him, it was for the best, honestly, they spent most of their time with the skeletons anyway, why not save on gas and bills? Paps loved them, and anyone who made his brother happy was good in his book... 

They made him happy too.

So happy, in fact, that he finally built up the motivation to work on that old machine in the basement lab again. 

What family would be complete without a long-lost-to-the-void dad, after all?

It worked.

It really worked! 

Gaster was back, who knew all it would take was a little skeletal elbow grease and a portion of a willing human's soul?

They were more than willing. Always ready to make sacrifices for others. He liked that about them.

And so they all lived together, his slightly unorthodox family, with happiness to spare. 

The fifth year was the best and the worst. Everything was official as could be. It was him, his brother, their shared datemate, and father. 

With Gaster came the knowledge that others were trapped in the void. His erased from existence followers, his _friends._

He and his father worked day and night to establish a connection to the void, hopeful that Gaster's memories alone were enough to bring them back. They weren't scattered across space and time as he was, merely aimlessly wandering in the unforgiving darkness. 

It was fruitless.

Until it wasn't.

It was the final attempt, a last-ditch effort, and a dangerous one at that. Every member of his avant-garde family was in the lab with him. The three monsters pouring their magic into the machine, the human standing off to the side, ready to jump in and pull the plug if something went wrong. 

A connection was made.

But not the one they had been looking for. 

His little abnormal family had suddenly become a whole lot bigger. 

There were a plethora of alternate universe variants of him and his brother living with them now, all walking different paths in life. 

Some had reached the surface only moments prior before being transported to his world, some were still stuck underground in that endless loop, some had been on the surface even longer than his timeline. 

But he had something all his other counterparts didn't. Not a single one of them, and he made sure to check. 

Nobody had _them._

They were completely exclusive to his timeline only. 

He couldn't help but feel a little smug at that.

He finally had something all to himself, an experience all the other versions of him hadn't been graced with. Something that hadn't been taken away in a single time-loop. 

He supposed that's why he wasn't all that jealous when the others started expressing their want to be closer to them. How could he blame 'himself' and his 'brother' for being drawn to them, when he had been lured in all the same some odd years ago?

They always took everything in stride. If they weren't worried, then he wasn't either. 

When the machine was fixed, they'd be his alone once more anyway. Sharing wouldn't be an issue for now.

"You're spacing out again, Mr. Astronaut."

That voice never failed to warm him down to the marrow, something not even the handknit-with-love blanket around his shoulders could do. The gentle understanding in their voice fighting off the dwindling fear that they were upset at him for not paying attention.

They never were. They understood he got lost in the past sometimes. 

But how could he pay attention to all those twinkling little lights in the sky when the brightest star he's seen was laying right next to him, curled up in another blanket. 

Stargazing up on a hill near their forest home, thermoses of hot cocoa, a telescope, and a warm hand to hold through it all. This was his heaven.

"Sans..." They sounded worried.

They shouldn't be. He was fine. This is perfect. 

"Sans... look at me, please." 

So he looked. 

Breathtaking, as always. If he had lungs, he was sure he'd be gasping for breath. How did they always manage to become more attractive every time he looked at them? 

They opened and closed their mouth several times, struggling to find the right words. He squeezed their hand in reassurance.

"I know you don't like promises... but... could you promise me something, just this once?"

He smiled. 

For them, he'd promise to give them the whole world, and then some.

"heh, what's up buttercup?" The nickname slipped out of him naturally, they always did look amazing in yellow.

"Promise me... that you'll never forget me."

Well, that just wouldn't do. They struggled with self-confidence, he knew. Hell, he was in the same boat some days. Who would like this old bag of bones anyway?

Them, apparently. 

He wanted to laugh. 

He settled for turning on his side to face them, one hand propping his head up, the other cupping their cheek. Feeling their soft skin never got old. How could someone be so warm?

"hard to forget you when you'll always be with me, buttercup. where's this comin' from, anyway?" His thumb phalange stroked gentle circles on their cheek, a soothing gesture they both took comfort in. "you doubtin' yourself again? c'mon, we're in this together, right? buildin' ourselves up an' all that-" 

They gently pushed his hand away.

"Just promise me Sans! ... _Please._ "

It was rare to hear them sound so serious. They were so carefree, cracking jokes with him even as they cried, cooking with Papyrus when they didn't even want to get out of bed, they somehow managed to pull a smile out of Gaster within seconds of entering a room despite him pulling a string of all-nighters. 

They were something special, through and through. 

He didn't even have to promise, who would dare forget such a wondrous soul?

But he knew, sometimes just that little reassurance made a world of difference. 

He sighed and looked back at the shimmering night sky, holding out his hand once more, pinky extended. The small giggle that left their lips should have been a sin. 

They interlocked their pinky with his, the familiar feeling of flesh on his bones grounding him. 

"yeah, i promise, alright?" 

**_"i'll never forget you, even if i tried to."_ **

By year six, he had forgotten. Everyone had. 

͗C̴̡̛̩͖͌̈́͛̀h̴̢̦̠̙̟̽͋̔̀̄a̶̛̤̫̮̱̗͕̍̌̿͗̾̓̉̇̒͘͝͠ṛ̴͙̥̥̙͓̱͗̈̋̀̄́͌͐͑͊́̅̕ͅḁ̴̢̨̫̰̫̯̦̠̫̮̳̜͌̚ç̷̜̮͕̘̯̬̙̺̏̓͂̑ͅt̵̡͚̟͚͓̩̜̗̆̈̂̐̈́̽̎̊͝͝ͅé̵̝̦̜͓̗̱̫̖̣̘͈̹̂́͐̾͒̀͐̒̚̚͝͠ͅř̷̟̫̼͖͕͗͑͒̿̄́̐͊̔̋̍̚ ̴̡̞̗̄̀̓̈͐̓͛F̸̛͚͚̰͍̳̬͓̤̖̰͗͛̍͗͗̅̈́̿̀̆̀͜͜͜͝i̶̢͖̩̱̱͓͑̓̿̾͜͠l̸̬͓̟͇̦͛͂̎̚ͅè̸̹̂̈̈́ ̶̩͔̭̠͓̹͈͈͎̩͒̋̑͑̾͊͐̇̋̇̾͑D̸̜̖̘̺͚̘̜͙̞̹̥̬̀̈̈́̈́̏̇͋̓̈́̈́͒̈́́e̵̲͚̼͈̎́̅̽̽͊͝͝l̵̫̝̝̮͎̾̈́e̸̠͚̝̯͛̇̾̋̇̍̋̚t̵̠̙̻̬̀̈̏ę̴̱̬͎͔͑̐̎̍̏̈́͒͐͝d̵̢̹͔̭̖̦̫͇̙̺̣͆̓̃̋̃̄͌͜͝


	8. When One Door Closes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too fucking many others open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how sick I am of writing about doors? I never want to see another door in my life.

"we've met before, haven't we."

Well then. 

That was certainly not what you had been expecting Sans to say the second the two of you were alone. 

You had just turned down the right hallway after climbing up the stairs to the second floor when he stopped and spun around to face you. His expression stony and appraising. 

What he said was more of a statement than a question, and he probably wasn't expecting an answer. 

You answered anyway. But not without being a smartass. If he wanted to play twenty questions, you'd make those twenty answers his living hell. 

"Yeah, we have." You spoke dully, and he opened his mouth, taking your bait hook, line, and sinker. 

"i-"

You cut him off before he could say anything to ruin your absolutely sick burn. 

"Like, a whole thirty minutes ago, in the basement. Y/n, remember? Can't expect much from a guy with an empty head, can I?" Ah, you loved the smell of smug in the morning. 

For quite possibly the first time in the history of ever, Sans didn't look too amused by the skeleton joke. 

He shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, squaring his shoulders and taking on a more defensive stance, standing to his full height instead of slouching, which was really fucking unfair since he had a good seven inches on your (completely average and not short fuck you) height. You were not vertically challenged, everyone else just got an extra round on that stretching torture rack, end of discussion. 

...Why did Sans suddenly look like he had won the lottery?

"s'that so? 'cause from where i was standin', you looked awfully scared to try my bro's cookin'. almost like you knew he wasn't all that great at it at one point, yeah?"

Damn. Maybe you had been the one caught hook, line, and sinker. 

You laughed nervously, those sins on your back from earlier deciding to check-in and yep, there you were, still getting yourself into fucked up situations. You were sure you looked like the most disingenuous person on the planet.

"I- uh, I mean, uh... I just... you know, I'm really good at reading people and-" This was pathetic. You knew it, Sans knew it, Mutt who was watching you from across the hall with his door cracked open knew it- wait what-

"look, pal, i'd like to think i'm a great _judge_ of character." You couldn't even process his pun or what the fuck Mutt was doing watching you before Sans was speaking again. "and right now? i'm not really likin' the feeling i get when i look at you."

Did...

Did he just say your vibes were off? 

Sans just checked your vibes, and he found them disgusting. 

You were speechless, literally, what the fuck could you even try to say to that? 

"so, what i'm sayin' is, i know what you are, kid. and for the record, i'm not mad, this world has its own anomaly, we're actually good buds, and they're on their way over to talk to you." Sans sighed, his offensive demeanor melting away. He looked just as tired as he did when you first saw him in the lab, and in that one family photo with Gaster and Papyrus. 

You... actually felt a little bad. The poor dude was probably working his coccyx off to get everyone back to their timelines, he really didn't need you being a shitstain on top of it all. 

You opened your mouth to apologize, but he raised a hand to stop you. He wasn't done talking. 

"they'll be able to understand you better than me, we've, uh, never really had another time controlling anomaly come through before, so we don't exactly know what having more than one to a universe will do." The skeleton narrowed his eye sockets, but beneath that harsh glare, you could see, he looked _scared._

Of... you?

"so, for the time bein', you can't LOAD or RESET anymore, capiche? if you get into trouble, just yell for one of us, i can guarantee one of us will be around, we'll come get you."

You knew you couldn't tell him that you didn't know if you actually had control over the whole 'overriding your death' thing. He'd most likely take drastic measures and keep you secluded to a single room so there'd be no risk of you dying from anything other than boredom. 

But, was all of this really worth it either? Him thinking you were another timeline jumping anomaly like Frisk? He said they were friends, right? Did that mean this universe didn't have a single genocide timeline? Or maybe it did, and Sans was still keeping tabs on the preteen. It would be hard to trust yet another powerful entity who could do some real damage if they wanted. 

To be a spectator (accomplice even) to the slaughter and know every secret their coded lives had to hide, or to be a god among humans and bend time and space to your will by sheer drive alone?

You sighed deeply, your web of lies was getting more intricate by the second. "Yeah... okay, I got it."

At your acquiescence, his permagrin became a little more genuine. 

"thanks, pal."

And then he was gone. He teleported right before your eyes. 

Son of a bitch he was SUPPOSED TO GIVE YOU A TOUR-

"Ugh, whatever." Grumbling, you trudged down the hall, noticing how Mutt's door was now fully closed. Good, eavesdropping rat.

Like the first floor, the walls were painted sage green, and the floors were still the same polished wood, which made the four doors of this hallway stand out in the worst way possible. It was like a wild pack of emo teenagers were given free rein to decorate.

The first door was painted burgundy, several long claw-like slash marks running across the wood, removing the paint, and leaving small grooves in their wake. It was only after staring at it for a good minute that you realized the violent strokes were actually spelling out a name. 

Red.

Of course. 

The next door was charcoal-grey with cheyenne style paneling. Several warning signs were nailed onto it, but the one that stuck out the most was the one that said 'WARNING! NO IDIOTS BEYOND THIS POINT!' 

You looked at the sleek metal nameplate affixed in the center. 

Edge.

Man, must suck to not be allowed into your own room. 

The next door was a bit more tolerable, the wine-red color almost immediately giving away who it belonged to. There wasn't much else to be said about it, the wood had four panels and the paint was glossy. It was modern, sleek, and above all else, functional. The golden name plaque accented the rich colored paint nicely. 

Black.

The last door of the hall was easily identified as Mutt's without even having to look at it. You had just seen him moments ago spying on you through it anyway. It wasn't worth your thorough examination knowing he was just inside. The wood was painted rust orange and his nameplate was bone-shaped, almost mimicking a dogs tag.

Seeing as there was nothing else down this hall, you turned around and wandered to the left hallway. The same four-door layout greeted you. 

The first door was an eye-bleeding shade of neon blue, delicate five-point white stars that looked to be hand-painted were scattered across the surface. Smooth cursive writing was painted with the same shade of white. 

Blue.

The next door in the sequence wasn't as big of an eyesore, painted a glossy honied marmalade-orange with two panel designs. A small whiteboard was strung up with a black ribbon, Stretch's name spelled out in sloppy handwriting with a black dry erase marker. You tried to wipe off the name to write something else but... what the fuck... did he seriously use permanent marker on a whiteboard?

Potential fun ruined, you moved on to the next door. It was just a regular door. Painted a basic shade of white. Nothing special. Which is exactly why you didn't trust it. You stepped forward and tried the silver handle.

Unlocked. 

You gingerly pushed the door open.

Oh. A bathroom. Well, that was a pleasant surprise. 

It seemed normal enough, white tile floor, white walls, a porcelain throne, a tub-shower combo with a white curtain, and a white sink. Overall, you'd say this was a good bathroom, very... white. 

You closed the door and went to the next. Another white door. 

Surely they didn't have two bathrooms right fucking next to each other, right?

Right.

Putting those top tier deductive skills to the test, you tried the neighboring doors handle, like the bathroom, it was unlocked. 

And would you look at that, it wasn't a fucking bathroom, spot-on work detective Y/n. You'd put Sherlock Holmes out of business. 

It was a sparsely decorated bedroom, only coming with the essentials. A full-sized bed covered with some very scratchy looking sheets pushed against the far wall, a cheap-looking black three drawer dresser, and a small nightstand beside the bed. 

You supposed none of the skeletons wanted this room in favor of having one directly next to their brother. It was a very promising candidate for your own room, since it, as stated before, _wasn't_ directly next to a skeletons room. You really didn't want to have to deal with sharing a wall with one of them. 

There were no more rooms in this hallway, but, there was another staircase. And hey, Stretch did say there were a few rooms for you to choose from, maybe you'd find an even further away one on the third floor? 

Up the stairs you went. 

Same green walls, same wooden floors. These bone-boys really sucked at interior design. 

You decided to go down the right hallway first. 

Three white doors and a singular brown door greeted you. You made the safe assumption that the white doors would either be bedrooms or a bathroom, so you skipped right over them, heading to the brown door. It sported a three panel design and a brass doorknob. There was no name on the door, you could only guess that it wasn't someone's bedroom, but still occupied with something. 

Curiously, you tried the handle. Unlocked. 

You twisted the knob fully and pushed the door open, the room was mostly dark, faint streams of light spilling from between the closed curtains on the window. Pressing your hand against the cold wall, you felt around for a light switch, hitting your desired target moments later and flicking it on to reveal...

Oh... Oh _wow._

Your inner literature boner was full mast. 

A **_personal library!_**

The smell of bound leather and aging paper struck your nose in all the right ways. 

Shelves upon shelves of book spines, some titles you could see and recognize, others too worn and faded for you to even make out. They still excited you all the same. This was your passion, your own little slice of heaven presented to you on a silver platter. 

You could already envision yourself in here for hours on end, a warm drink perched on that little mahogany side table by that brown leather reading chair, you seated in it with a soft blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a gentle flame in that small brick fireplace against the wall, the delicate pitter-patter of rain against the window lulling you into the inked embrace of the history around you. 

You just busted an emotional nut. It was a real _cum_ motion. 

Haha, nice. 

God, you're pitiful.

With a heartfelt promise to come back to your paper lovers at a later time, you turned off the light and slipped out of the library, heading to the polar hallway. 

Two more blank doors side by side and... two decorated doors. What...? Hadn't you met all of the skeletons of the household?

Stepping closer to examine them you were faced with one canary-yellow door and one pear-green door. Both were affixed with nameplate holders with pieces of paper where the metal plate should be. 'G' was scribbled on the paper for the yellow door, and 'Green' was evenly written on the paper for the green door. 

Huh, the Gaster!Bros were here as well? Why hadn't you been introduced to them? 

There was probably a not suspicious answer for that.

Like, maybe they were traveling or something, or they were reclusive and you'd eventually run into them. Or they were dead.

You'd ask one of the skeletons about it later. You'd also ask just how many alternate variants had been brought through while you were at it. They didn't really have a reason to lie to you. 

Were you a hypocrite...? Yeah, probably. 

You were honestly expecting the third floor to be the last, so when you reached the end of the hall and saw yet another staircase, you were rightfully shocked. You prayed it wasn't yet another level of rooms occupied by AU skeletons, you could only handle so much. 

You climbed the staircase, each step upwards feeling more difficult than the last, the dull thud of your feet against wood echoing off the walls in an ominous manner. 

This felt very... horror movie-esque. 

It was probably fine.

You reached the top and were met with a single door. It seemed...oddly familiar. From the frame to the handle it was all a singular color. Pewter-grey. Two long vertical panels decorating the door. 

This door was bad-vibe central. And the last time you got bad vibes, you fucking died. 

You decided to leave the door alone. 

Casting it one more glance, you raced down the fourth and third-floor staircases, making your way to the staircase down to the main floor, a menagerie of voices growing louder the closer you got. 

You reach the top of the staircase when you finally see it. There at the base of the steps is Sans, laughing and talking like he was greeting an old friend.

And he was.

The Angel.

The Savior Of The Underground.

Monster Ambassador. 

Frisk.

They looked... very much older than you expected.

...Just how long had they been on the surface?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a [Tumblr](http://adorible.tumblr.com/)  
> It has absolutely nothing on it yet!  
> Feel free to follow for future fic updates, reblogged art, and other random stuff!  
> Also, feel free to shoot me a message there!  
> This is a first for me so things will be a little awkward but at least I'm trying.  
> 


	9. The... Teen Who Speaks In Hands?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, convenient text boxes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *RISES FROM THE GRAVE*  
> *THROWS CHAPTER AT YOU*  
> *GOES BACK TO BEING DEAD*
> 
> In actuality, I am so sorry this chapter took me so damn long, it fought me like a motherfucker, and it ended up being mostly filler with the barest hint of spicy plot. 
> 
> I've also been kinda busy with my other fic, in case you haven't checked it out, it's called [Missing In Action](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25547578/chapters/61990132) and it's about a 1920's mafia boss who gets yeeted into the present with their skele hitmen, so if that tickles your fancy, go check it out! 
> 
> On with the story!

Yeah, Frisk was most certainly not a child anymore. 

Where you were expecting pudgy squishable cheeks and a striped jumper, you got a defined jawline and surprisingly formal attire. 

You couldn't pinpoint their age, but they must be in their late teens at this point. Maybe even early twenties? 

They were wearing a cornflower-blue v-neck sweater with an orchid-purple high-collar dress shirt underneath, pressed denim jeans, and black slip ons. You would have completely missed their necklace if they hadn't shifted and the glimmering gold hit the light. It was a four-point star on a long chain, and very closely resembled the save points in the game.

Their skin was sunkissed, eyelashes thick and eyes lidded, eye color obscured from your view, choppily cut brunette hair that hardly reached past their chin with bangs that were well past the need for a trim, their posture was lax, arms gently wound around a brown flower po- wait a minute.

Okay, well, fuck, that was definitely Flowey in that pot. So Frisk brought his gremlin-ass out of the underground. Interesting. 

His two leaves were crossed like arms across his stem, mouth set into a bored frown, beady black eyes narrowed at Sans and bright yellow petals flattened back slightly. Looks like the age-old weed vs. smiley trashbag thing was still going on.

Good to see some things haven't changed. 

...the talking had stopped.

Your eyes drifted back up to see Frisk and Sans turned in your direction, heads tilted up at your elevated position on the stairs. Frisk had a warm smile aimed at you. Sans... not so much. He looked like he was barely holding back a grimace. 

It was better than outright glaring at you, maybe your agreeance of not RESETting had landed you on neutral grounds with the skeleton. 

You almost wished he would try some fuckshit with you while alone, but you didn't know how well you'd be able to hold back the flood of information you had. You _may_ be a little morbidly curious about how he'd react to some... **choice** phrases from a genocide run. Maybe even repeat his own speech about LV and EXP back to him. Word for word. Or Papyrus' dying wish to see Frisk do a little better. 

Did it even matter how he'd feel? 

He's a fucking video game character. 

Strings of code and scripted reactions. 

In the end, he would never be a real person with real feelings. 

Frisk adjusted their grip on Flowey's pot, nodding their head at Sans in a departing gesture before ascending the stairs to join you, still smiling. 

Your eyes darted to Flowey, who still looked bored out of his mind, before settling back on the other human silently watching you. 

"Uh... hi?" You tried. 

The Savior of the Underground lowered the flower pot to the ground, patting the soulless plant on the head before straightening out, raising their hands in odd gestures. 

You were ashamed to admit it took you a hot second to figure out it was fucking sign language. 

And that wasn't even the worst part.

You didn't _know_ sign language.

Your eyes locked onto Frisk's hands, trying desperately to find at least a single motion that was even a bit familiar to you. Not a damn chance. You had to tell them.

"I-I uh... look, I uh- I can't-"

**_*Howdy! I'm Frisk!_ **

...

Okay, you're calm. That's just a text box in your head. This is totally fine and not incredibly fucked. Just... casually imagining pixel dialog boxes. Yup. Normal shit. 

You would rejoice the day you became apathetic to the bullshit this world decided to throw at you. All the internal screaming was interrupting the elevator music that played in your mind on repeat at all hours of the day. 

"Y/n..." You mumbled, eyes suddenly finding anything but Frisk interesting. 

You couldn't even explain how uncomfortable you were. You should have been at least a little excited, right? Meeting these characters wasn't an everyday occurrence, fucks sake, you knew that. 

So then why...

Why did you feel so out of place? 

Because you don't belong here, obviously. Not someone like you. 

These kinds of situations were saved for the cutesy and blushy main character types you wrote about. They'd meet the varients, take fucking forever to figure out they were all the same set of brothers from different universes, help them deal with their traumas or whatever, go on that mandatory shopping trip or that cliche beach vacation, and then fuck off to happily ever after land when they all fall in love. 

That wasn't you. 

You, who _knew_ everything already.

You, who had _died_ to one of the skeletons.

You... who didn't recognize them as real people, even as they stood in front of you.

You, who saw it as a game, and only that. 

You, who was so _so_ similar to-

"Got a staring problem, **buddy?** " A voice hissed.

Flowey.

In the midst of your inner battle, your eyes had drifted down to that little flower pot that held the megalomaniac plant. You must have been looking at him rather intensely, he seemed beyond pissed off, jagged smile threatening and cold.

Frisk drew your attention by clicking their tongue, puffing out their cheeks, and shaking their head at the flower in a disapproving manner. They tilted their head at you, offering that warm smile that left you feeling even worse than Flowey's attempt of intimidation. 

They began to sign again. And once more, the text popped into your head. 

**_*Don't mind him, he's always grumpy. You're the human Sans called about, right?_ **

You nod stiffly, you don't trust your voice at the moment. 

The proud beam you get for answering makes your stomach roll with nausea. They shouldn't be looking at you like that. They didn't know. They couldn't know. You didn't... you wouldn't have done... if you had known that you'd be facing them in person you wouldn't have done it...

You kept your eyes on Frisk's hands, looking at their face any longer would probably kill you, they practically radiated a gentle understanding aura. 

**_*Great! Do you want to talk in private? You've got a room picked out, don't you?_ **

You nod again, and the sound of humorless high pitched cackling fills the air. You know it's Flowey without even looking at him.

"Jeez! Are they braindead or what? What's the matter, buddy? Cat got your tongue? Or are you really so _stupid_ that you only know how to say your own name!" He taunted, mouth pulled into a sharp sneer, petals shaking with mocking intent. 

Never have you wanted to bitchslap a flower so badly. Never.

Frisk quickly scooped up the flower pot in one arm, wagging their finger at the monster in a scolding manner. They weren't signing, yet you saw the text box again. 

**_*Asriel, don't be mean! They're probably still in shock!_ **

Hoo boy, you probably weren't supposed to hear... see(?) that. 

Shaking your head, you cleared your throat, gaining both the monster and the human's attention. One look of annoyance, the other of kindness. 

"Yeah, uh, sorry, I just... it's been a wild ride already, I do have a room picked out so we can... talk and stuff." You nodded your head in the direction of the staircase, turning and making your way to the room you had chosen, soft footsteps behind you signaling that Frisk was following.

Of course you'd picked the room right beside the library. You'd be crazy to not, it was perfect, and it would be so incredibly easy to slip out of your room and into that cozy leather chair when insomnia's bitchass decided to pay you a visit. 

The skeletons would have to pry those books out of your cold dead hands. And judging from your newfound immortality, and some of the more _violent_ monsters in the house, that might be a very real scenario. 

After your first empty bedroom exploration, you had safely assumed the others would be just the same, so color you surprised when you actually opened the door to the room you picked and it had a quaint little window seat, ready to be piled high with pillows, a soft-as-shit throw blanket, and maybe if you were feeling particularly spicy, a little succulent perched on the window sill.

Maybe it would even survive longer than a month. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to caring for plants. 

You faintly remember someone telling you that houseplants sucked up negative energy like sponges and would die if overwhelmed, and, well, you're a burnt-out college student. You had a lot of negative energy to give. You could easily water a few hundred potted plants with the number of tears you shed during exam week alone. 

A quick glance at Frisk showed them silently appraising the room, before concluding that they liked it, nodding their approval and stepping further into the room, setting Flowey's pot on the nightstand before seating themselves on the bed. 

You don't know why, but the acceptance of the room lit a faint warmth in your chest, proud that your choice was a good one.

Damn you people-pleasing tendencies, always getting in the way of you giving no fucks about what people thought of you and your decisions. 

You joined Frisk on the bed, though you sat as far away from them as possible, putting your hands in your lap and keeping your eyes on the floor, not sure of where to go from here. They probably already thought you were a bumbling moron, or at least Flowey did, and you didn't want to make it worse. You'd let Frisk do most of the talking. Signing. Fuck. 

Frisk's hands were a flurry of movements as soon as they saw you settle in, and even if it was wack as all get out, you were thankful the text boxes existed, it saved you an assload of time studying ASL, and what would probably make for an even more uncomfortable first meeting where they'd probably have to communicate by writing down what they wanted to say. 

**_*I'm like you, I can RESET, and even SAVE a certain moment in time and come back to it later with a LOAD. Does that sound familiar?_ **

Fucking ask the hard questions first, why don't you?

Flowey scoffed, turning away from the two of you to instead look out the window. 

Eat shit, Asriel. This is why your best friend is fucking dead you little-

**_*Sans said you were hesitant to admit you had those powers, but don't worry! Flowey could at one point, and I still can, so we're able to understand you better than he could. I'm not mad at you._ **

Frisk gave you a patient smile, before quickly perking up, signing something excitedly. 

**_*Oh! I know! Why don't you tell me about your world! So we can see what the similarities and differences are!_ **

Oh, sure sure, not a problem. See, the thing is your world is actually a video game in my world, and like, sometimes you get possessed by a fucking demon child and kill everyone you love, and other times you kill the king and dip, and people make real fucked AU's of the underground literally starving and resorting to eating fallen humans, and _other_ other times, you are the savior of the underground and set the monsters free, also Sans is a smartass so at least that's the same.

Did I mention that you actually never have control over your own actions because it's up to the player to decide if they want to commit mass genocide or not? Except if you do the genocide route, Chara snatches your SOUL and destroys the world's game file because fuck you, amiright? Also, there's like a whole fanbase dedicated to fucking the skeleton brothers, so there's that. Pretty fun stuff, anyway-

"Uh... actually, I was thinking maybe you could like... tell me about this world? My world doesn't matter much since I'm here and not there. I'd like to know everything I can about this timeline so I can like, uh, fit in better, and not just assume things are the same as back home..." It was a weak inquiry, but it was the best you could do. 

Of course this timeline wouldn't be anything like 'back home', the fandom created so many theories and entire timelines based on what if's and the smallest bit of canon information, it was impossible for this world to cram all that shit together and have it make any sort of sense. 

Frisk lowered their hands, going silent. It wouldn't have concerned you normally, maybe it was just taking them a bit to form the right phrasing in their mind before they signed it out. 

What concerned you is that Flowey, within a few seconds of silence, turned back around, watching Frisk intently. 

They opened their eyes. 

Their irises could have lit you aflame with the burning intensity behind them. Scorched amber swirled with golden hues, flecks of rusted red congregating closer to their pupils, something so beautifully unnatural, you felt your breath leave you at the sight. 

Their gaze stayed locked with yours, you couldn't look away. Fuck, why couldn't you look away? It was like they were looking right through you, picking apart your words and exposing it for what it really was.

You didn't want to talk about it. You wanted to deflect. 

Something similar to pity, and kinship maybe, flashed in their eyes. They could understand not wanting to talk about home life. They were like that, before the fall, and before they had gained their new family. 

They would grant you MERCY, and SPARE you that talk. You would open up with time. 

Frisk opened their mouth, and you were seconds away from shitting yourself if they actually spoke, but, fortunately, they only let out a silent sigh, eyes lidding borderline closed, and you found yourself able to move and breathe properly again.

You didn't know if they had actually held you captive with some kind of magic or if the abnormal color of their eyes had just startled you that much.

They gave you a reassuring smile, lifting their hands to sign, but you were pretty sure it was just a formality at this point. You'd take a wild guess and say you were reading their projected intent, and that was the text boxes showing up in your head. 

**_*I can't give you every detail, I have a meeting I need to attend soon, but I can give you the basics, Sans can fill you in on specifics, especially about the monsters of this house, I only visit occasionally._ **

They paused, frowning, and seemingly struggling to find the right words. 

**_*Some of them... aren't fond of me, and I can understand that. They come from timelines that didn't get a happy ending._ **

Frisk shook their head. 

**_*But that's not my story to tell, the story I get to tell starts with a little kid, who climbed a mountain..._ **

And that's how you spent the next two hours, listening to Frisk retell the story of their journey in the underground, you were more than surprised to hear them admit to a genocide run. Three, in fact. One that stopped after they killed their now adoptive mother, Toriel, another that stopped before Undyne out of frustration for not beating her after many attempts, and the last, a near-perfect genocide route, they had killed every possible monster. Only when Chara made themselves known did Frisk panic and RESET. 

Flowey stayed incredibly silent the entire time.

But as you know.

It wasn't a TRUE RESET. 

Meaning Sans remembered. 

One last True Pacifist run, and Sans made Frisk promise to never RESET again. 

**_*And here we are, six years later, and I've still kept my promise._ **

You weren't surprised that it had been six years, Frisk said they fell at eleven, that made them seventeen now. They were shaping up to be a capable young adult. 

Overall, you just got way loaded up on some much-needed information, and while your last brain cells were scrambling around trying to file that shit in the right places, you were left with your questions about the skeletons in the household, but as Frisk had said, that was probably something to ask Sans. 

But seeing as Sans really didn't like you, you'd most likely end up asking a different skeleton. Papyrus. Definitely Papyrus. 

Aggressive tapping drew your attention, and you looked over to see Frisk practically abusing their phone, pocketing it after a moment and giving you an apologetic smile.

**_*Sorry, I'm running late, Undyne is blowing up my phone to get me to hurry up._ **

They stood up, grabbing Flowey's pot and tucking it in one arm. 

**_*It was nice to meet you, my schedule is packed this month, but I have some free time next month, I'll come by to see how you've settled in, and maybe next time we'll talk about something less heavy, deal?_ **

"Deal." You smiled.

They gave you a mock salute, while Flowey simply glared at you, before they turned and walked towards the door, stopping short. 

**_*Oh... and Y/n?_ **

"Yeah, what's up?" You answered, smile still in place.

**_*Sans will warm up to you eventually, so don't sweat it if he acts a little off for a while... I don't know if it's because you showed up, but... the house felt off when I walked in, it was tense... and kind of sad. Don't rattle their bones too hard, yeah?_ **

Frisk winked, and you shook your head with a small laugh. 

"I'll do my best." You agreed easily. 

The smile they sent your way was just as soft and gentle as the other times... but...

**_*I knew you were a great partner._ **

They closed the door, and you were left alone in your new room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated to hell and back!
> 
> [My Tumblr!](http://adorible.tumblr.com/)


	10. Bruh Sound Effect #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I swear I'm not dead, but I've been swamped with life stuff for the longest time, don't have much time to sit and bang out chapter after chapter. Hopefully, things will slow down soon! Also-for those of you who read both of my stories, MIA isn't abandoned! I have the next chapter in the works, I just happened to have this in my drafts and had some time to clean it up! Anyway, enjoy this mostly filler chapter, real plot is coming I swear.

You had a whole hell of a lot of thinking to do. 

Like, for example, going over what the ever-living fuck Frisk had said before they left. 

'Great partner'???

Uh yeah, _that_ wasn't creepy as shit. 

Look, if Chara wanted to make a surprise appearance, they were more than welcome. 

You could and would throw hands with a dead child.

It _couldn't_ have been Frisk that 'spoke' that last sentence to you... could it?

It was speculated that Chara had bonded to Frisk the moment they fell atop their final resting place, Frisk's DETERMINATION waking them, ill intent or not. 

You don't start the Genocide Run until you reach a few rooms over, they couldn't have attached at any other time. 

As you flopped down to lay on the bed, your thoughts began to stray.

_Great partner._

That specific phrasing was used in the Genocide Run at the very end when Chara made themselves fully known to the Player, and the option to ERASE the world was chosen. 

That's the one and only time those words were used, so it wasn't that far off to maybe assume they only called you that because you had agreed with them. 

In this case, it was to not dick with the skeletons too badly.

Ooooor, this is the world after your personal playthroughs of the game, and Chara recognized you as the Player of the Geno Routes, and you were mega-fucked. 

But that didn't really make a whole lot of sense, Frisk said there had been three Genocide Runs in total, and you had played way more than three, not to mention actually completing the runs, unlike Frisk.

Chara was aware the world was a game, that much was obvious from their dialogue, you weren't sure about Frisk, they were more of a vessel for you to control than a sentient being. But you weren't piloting them around now.

Didn't... didn't Flowey know it was a game too? He talked about people watching the slaughter because they were too cowardly to do it themselves. That was a nod at viewers of lets players for sure. 

Okay, wait, that just opened a whole new can of worms. Frisk(Chara?) beat the shit out of Flowey because he was in the way, and Frisk said they RESET when Chara manifested, so that was after Flowey's death. 

Flowey must remember dying, right? Why is he still around Frisk then? He even admitted Chara was a little fucked in the head at the end of the True Pacifist Run. 

He _is_ still a soulless flower, maybe he just couldn't will himself to care?

Maybe Chara wasn't residing in Frisk's body?

Maybe it was all one big coincidence and you were overthinking! 

Stretching out your arm, you grasped onto one of the pillows next to you, shoving it over your face and letting out the verbal equivalent of a keysmash. 

You didn't stop screaming until you were heaving. Breaths coming in desperate gasping waves, you recoiled from the stuffy air bubble you had smothered yourself with. 

Lifting the pillow, you sat up and tossed it into the far corner of the room, the soft _whump_ it made when it came in contact with the floor was... wholly unsatisfying.

There wasn't anything in the room you could safely destroy in your frustration...

Actually...

You reached into your pocket, withdrawing the accursed Locket. 

The golden metal was still warm from where it rested against your clothed thigh, smooth and mostly unblemished, only the little scratch from when it had fallen off your display stand marring its surface.

You graced it with a look of pure loathing, a distorted reflection of your face glowering back at you.

"There is legitimately no reason I should keep you, if someone who knows what you are finds out I have you, I'll get killed. _Again._ " You spat at the necklace, clutching it so tightly your fingers ached with the stress.

"So, everything personal, you hunk of cursed junk. Suck my ass!" You reeled back, keen on throwing it across the room and against the wall. 

Except... you couldn't. 

Sighing, you slumped over and lowered your fist, thumbing the embossed Delta Rune. 

"I paid so much for this..." 

That wasn't all that was keeping you from yeeting it into the next dimension, though. 

Besides the clothes on your back, it was the only thing you had that connected you to your own world. A stupid, shitty reminder that this was very real and happening to you of all people. 

Holding onto it was a silent promise to yourself. You wouldn't forget where you came from, your appearance in this world was more unnatural than the AU skeletons, and you were DETERMINED to get the fuck out of here before they found you out. 

You stood from your seated position on the bed and did a quick once over of the room, it wouldn't be wise to keep the necklace in your pocket at all times, you needed to hide it. 

It was mostly barren, and seeing as you didn't have a lot of options at the moment, you were forced to shove it in a pretty stupid spot. 

You kneeled next to the bed, lifting the edge of the mattress away from the box spring, reaching in between as far as you could, shoulder bumping against the corner of the bedding as you tossed the Locket further than your arm could reach. 

Dropping the mattress and adjusting it so it was back in its proper place, you were satisfied with your stereotypical 'I'm a teenage boy and need to hide my porn' spot, so you stood and dusted yourself off. 

It was only temporary, you'd find a better place later, but as long as none of the skeletons knew what room you were in, it'd be fine for now. 

**_Knock knock knock_ **

Why do you think the things you do when you _know_ karma hates your ass. 

You exhale, calling out a quick 'Coming!' as you make your way to the door, opening it only to be met with the little skeletal chef graphic of Papyrus' shirt. 

Craning your neck upwards, you could already envision yourself in a neck brace from how often you'll have to strain your poor muscles to look at the taller of the brotherly pairs. 

"Heya Paps, what's up?" You give him a friendly smile, despite your slight breakdown over thinking about the implications behind Frisk's parting words, the sight of the happy-go-lucky skeleton was a wonderful distraction. 

You could count on him to not talk about serious topics where the end result was you becoming a bone pincushion or being in cahoots with a murder child. 

"Well, Not As New But Still Very Recently Made Friend Y/n, I Was Made Aware That You May Want To Get Into Fresher Clothes! So I Brought You These!" He announced with a beaming grin, holding out a plastic shopping bag you hadn't noticed before. 

A quick peek into the bag had you wincing internally, it looked like neon vomit. 

"Oh... uh... gee, thanks Paps... these are... certainly clothes." You faltered as you took the bag from him, there was literally nothing you could compliment about the outfit he had brought you, and you hadn't even taken it out of the bag yet. 

"You Are Very Welcome! Though I Do Apologize, They Will Be A Bit Oversized On You! I Asked If Black Would Lend You Something-Seeing As He Is The Closest To Your Tiny Size-But He Refused! So I Had To Go To The Second Smallest Skeleton! And That Was Blue!" His chipper attitude tapered off for a moment, grin falling slightly before it was hiked up ten times higher, looking more forced. 

"I Realize Blue's Fashion Choices Are... More Than Questionable, But It Is All We Have At The Moment. We Won't Be Able To Take You Shopping Until The Weekend, Nyoo Hoo Hoo..." Papyrus' shoulders slumped as he spoke solemnly, like he was confessing some profound sin to you.

It was very exaggerated, but in the most Papyrus way possible, if that made any sense. You could tell he was being sincere, though. 

You reached out with the hand not holding the bag, giving his arm a little pat of comfort. His jacket's material was cold and smooth to the touch, with the lack of warmth his body didn't need to generate, there was nothing to keep the jacket heated, as its intended purpose. If he wasn't so animated, you'd think he was some cheap Halloween prop. 

"Aw, no, it's okay. I think it's super cool that you're being so thoughtful. Thanks, you really are great Paps." You assured him, an unfamiliar fondness in your tone, not that you noticed it.

The skeleton perked right back up, and you let your arm slip back to its place at your side as his zygomatic arches flushed a soft tangerine. He made a small show of not making eye contact with you, wringing his mittened hands together in worry. 

"Something on your mind?" You prompted.

"Oh, Nyeh Heh Heh... Well, Yes, There Is Actually." He admitted, shifting from foot to foot, twiddling his thumb phalanges. 

You did your best to coax more out of him with a look of patience and a small hand motion for him to continue.

With minor reluctance, he yielded. 

"Seeing As How You Enjoyed My Cooking, I Would Like To Know, If You Are Not Busy Of Course-Which You Most Likely Are Not Since You Only Just Got Here-Would You Like To Help Prepare Lunch With Me And A Few Others? It Was A Wonderful Bonding Experience For Us When Each Of Them Arrived!"

Well well, wasn't this a golden opportunity to get some answers, and another chance to eat more home cooking that had you astral projecting into the next plane of existence. 

"You know what, I'd love that actually!" You answered with a gentle smile, lifting the shopping bag slightly. "Let me get changed into this real quick, and then I'll meet you in the kitchen, sound good?"

"That Sounds More Than Good! I Will See You Then, Friend Y/n! Wink!" He accompanied his audible action with an actual wink, spinning on his heels, and taking two long strides before you called out to him. 

"Oh, hey, wait Paps! Gotta question for you!" You leaned out of the doorway slightly to keep him in your line of sight.

He turned around fully to face you, bouncing on his heels, the extra pep in his step probably coming from your agreeance to Bonding Time™.

"Ask Away!" 

"How'd you know what door to knock on?"

He grinned, sockets squinting and crinkling in the corners with amusement. "Simple, I Knocked On Every Door Until You Answered, Of Course!" And with that, the cute motherfucker turned right back around and went on his merry way, leaving you to sputter out a small laugh as you closed the door to your room.

Papyrus was such a great character.

You wasted no time in dumping the clothes out of the bag and onto the bed. Pulling your pajama shirt off, you tossed it into the corner of the room where it landed on the pillow you had previously thrown, making a mental note to take your clothes down to the laundry room later. 

Your pajama pants were treated with a similar action, but you kept your underwear on. You didn't expect nor want any of them to give you undergarments to borrow. 

You picked up the new shirt, a muscle tank top in chartreuse-green that stated 'SUNS OUT GUNS OUT' in bold black lettering. You could feel your dignity slipping away as you put it on, and true to Papyrus' word, it was a bit oversized on you. You weren't drowning in fabric, thankfully, but truthfully you enjoyed larger clothes. Nobody could make remarks about your body type if they couldn't see it.

The bottoms were... well they were something. Flamingo-pink volley shorts in that god awful reflective material that flattered literally nobody, and built-in white leggings. Stepping into them was like sentencing yourself to death for your fashion crimes. At least because of the stretchy material they fit just a bit better. Did Blue really wear this shit?

You looked down at yourself and sighed. God kill you now, time to face the music.

Turning towards the door, you took a few steps, stopped, and looked over your shoulder, eyes locked on the bed, the knowledge of the hidden Locket burned into your mind. 

"Stay." You commanded the inanimate object, that was inanimate, and couldn't possibly move on its own. Because it's inanimate. 

Receiving no reply (no fucking shit), you opened the door, and made your way down the hall, heading for the kitchen. 

You didn't feel the heated stare of white eye-lights burning holes into the back of your head as you went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, questions, and fanart are always appreciated and I legitimately cry and look at everything. 
> 
> [My Tumblr!](http://adorible.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> As I said this is my first fic so any comments about what I can improve is very highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!


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